Beautiful Stranger
by Cordogg
Summary: Doc Hudson was an attractive fellow to her. But there was their huge age difference and she had her own ills with public image. Hudson enjoyed the single life all those decades until the mysterious beauty wandered into his territory. This is Doc Hudson/oc
1. Stranger Just Beautiful

**DISCLAIMER: ******THIS IS RATED M FOR A REASON! IF YOU ARE TOO YOUNG EXCUSE YOURSELF FROM THIS STORY AT ONCE. YOU WERE WARNED: I DID MY PART. NO UNDERAGE READERS PLEASE******

**Only this story line is mine. I DO NOT OWN 'CARS' OR ANYTHING AFFILIATED WITH THE FILM. PIXAR AND DISNEY**

**CLAIM THAT RIGHT. NO MONEY MADE FROM THIS. READING ENJOYMENT ONLY. ********Please note that (this may not make sense) but for my boy vehicles, they all have "two" **

**engines. The normal one under the hood and an extra one in the back of their bodies (for romance reasons-don't ask). ****NOW ENJOY.**

Things were fully normal since Rust-Eze and Lightning McQueen set up headquarters here; Radiator Springs remained the quaint and doting town it was before but had become slightly

larger as several other businesses had opened shop here. The Radiator Springs population had quadrupled from an original dozen or so residents to almost 139 peranent souls. By

consensus standards this was still incredibly small but for here, that was a huge change. Unbelievably the Road Hazard Delinquents had set up a nightclub, of all things just on

the outskirts of the small town, once obtaining a permit from Hudson to do so. The agreement was that the club had to be far enough away so as to not cause noise disturbance

to the tranquility of Radiator Springs but close enough so no one had to drive out of one's way to get there. It never seemed possible but Boost, Snot Rod, Wingo and

DJ actually liked Radiator Springs. They had become regular fixtures on the "Spring Strip" as they called the piece of Route 66 that went through the town. Beforehand,

they blew through en route to California using the town's streets as a drag race, so they were no strangers to it; they were always getting caught up to no good

and were pulling community service in some form or another around. That was in the past; Doc Hudson had not given up on them, Sheriff was sick of chasing them

and, despite their obnoxiousness, many of the town's residents enjoyed the 4 youth's wild-spirited ways. Though he'd never show it, even Sheriff secretly admired the thuggish

car-hoodlums. It was clear that simply throwing them in the Impound and making them haul stuff around wasn't punishment enough. They came here to escape the city cops

always shutting down their makeshift drag race and tried to do so in the desert but as they discovered they were not built for desert racing. So the next best thing was the

town's streets. The Judge realized these bolts could easily be committing far more serious crimes than racing, although drag racing was indeed angerous, it wasn't like they

openly threatened others. So a deal was made, upon speaking to Dinoco, a permanent drag racing strip, almost three miles of it was set up right outside of Radiator Springs.

The Road Hazards, or whatever they called themselves could race all they wanted to their hearts desires. Their night club titled "AXLE" was right next door. The residents

of Radiator Springs had grown quite accustomed to the flood of the "in" crowd: "boom cars" they were called, vehicles like the Delinquents with hideous thumping music and

outrageously bouncing hydraulics that put Ramone to shame. Showy drag racers and pop culturalists who dropped in every Friday and Saturday night to turn Axle and the drag

strip into a planet of night freaks. In fact, it clashed perfectly with the otherwise peaceful tranquility of Radiator Springs during the weekdays. It truly was nice to have

young people around and not just youngsters; quite a few older cars and trucks apparently enjoyed what Sheriff called the "wild scene". Among them was Fillmore. He got

off on watching the haze of multicolored streaks whiz by on the strip, reminding him of his Woodstock days. Speaking of Woodstock, The Axle was one of those joints that

attracted all sorts of patrons. It was largely hip-hop/Reggae/House music night on Fridays and Saturday nights was a mix of everything: pop, top 40, grunge, rap, 60s, 70s,

and 80s. You name it, DJ had it. The Axle was the jam spot for anyone coming through Radiator Springs and had become quite famous far beyond its desert home. Tourists as

far away as Tokyo and Paris partied here even a few celebrity cars here and there. The faint blare of noise, music, yells and roaring engines could be heard in the distance as

Doc Hudson smiled warmly to himself. Boost and his three pals liked it here so much that they chose to stay here. And they were welcomed here. They were the entertainment

experts. Something caught the corner of Doc's eye. There she was creeping across the lot of his medical practice and headed towards her designated cone room as Sally bid her

good night. A thing of pure beauty absolute. "Stranger...just beautiful." he muttered.

Beautiful stranger, indeed.


	2. Recherch'e

**Note: This entire fic is in car form so I'm doing this as they are in the movie: CARS, windshield eyes and all. They're ANAMORPHIC as in the movie. Since in the movie the cars seemed to stretch their front tires out on suspension rods almost like arms, they are being able to use their front axles and everything like in reference to humans in this story is fantasy. What I mean is "humans" are make-believe to cars like elves are to humans. Also, the cars all have internal built in car phones so they can contact each other. This may seem weird. Also, this lambourgini is named "Prince". You'll find out later why she was named such. Also, please note that by human standards Prince's age is the equivalent of a 36-year-old. All thoughts are in bold type.**

******I own only this story, Prince (not the music artist), Four Wheel, Griff, Steve, Duncan and a few other oc cars in future chapters. Cars owned by Disney/Pixar. No money made; this is for reading only.**

It was clear the car was female. A jet black lambourgini diablo, so black that her sleek shape could barely be made out against the blackness of the road in front of her. She looked like a silhouette. The

darkened area behind her was the black hole, she, its event horizon. Like a predator stalking prey, she slowly inched onwards towards cone #7, with such stealth that her engine couldn't be heard. She

was so low to the ground she appeared nearly flat-true aerodynamic trait of her make and model. Lambourginis existed for one reason only the saying went-SPEED. Certainly she didn't appear to be here

for a drag race, or didn't even have any racing stickers or company decals like a "true" race car. So, she wasn't the racing type it seemed. Lambourginis were a very rare race, parents rarely produced

them naturally and the few that did proudly saw them grow to have the world, literally at their feet. Unlike other types, Lambourginis were BORN, not built. Everyone gawked these rarities, and such

lucky cars usually ate up the attention with an incredible amount of arrogance. They knew they were the shit and ate it up. The pitch-black ultra sports car never crossed anyone exactly like her who was

down to earth. Even she was guilty of the superiority complex, and maybe now it was coming back to haunt her. She silently spun around and Doc's fan belt nearly froze up. When she slowly lifted up her

ebony windshield lids, two pairs of huge, opulent violet eyes gazed blankly at him. It was if the white part of her eyes were completely purple though she never opened her shields barely wider than slits.

Their shape were slim like the body design she bore.

"Recherch'e." Doc muttered, the French word, translation: exquisite. Tasteful. Her mouth was a cupid's bow set high on her grill. It was slightly shaded lighter than the rest of her, just enough to reveal

her lips. Doc quietly backed up behind a stack of boxes to avoid detection but the car failed to notice him. Her gaze seemed distant, as if lost in thought. Her windshield was glossed over as if she had been

crying. She didn't just look unhappy; her expression seemed dead. A blank, soulless expression as if she wasn't altogether there. Almost like she had made a decision. Two strange sensations crept over

Doc, and one he was not particularly happy about. One was he had the feeling like she was plotting something terrible and the other... **_Get that thought out of your mind. __Now! He thought,_**

**_ disgusted at himself for thinking such impure thoughts. You don't even KNOW this __female, haven't even met her and haven't done it in so long you'd spew out carbon monoxide if_**

**_ you __did do it now and kill her in the process. WHAT AM I THINKING? Stop this-NOW! _**When he was sure she had gone inside, Doc's curiosity overpowered his control to turn in for the

night. He drove quietly across the street to where Sally stood idling and staring in the direction of where her newest guest had gone. He could tell by Sally's looks that she too had an eerie feeling

about the strange Lambourghini. "I see you've got yourself a new guest." Doc broke the uneasy silence. "Yeah, she's from Las Vegas. Her name's Prince." Sally spoke. "..PRINCE?" Doc eyed her

with puzzlement. "That's what she said. Interesting name if you ask me. Certainly different. She seems very, I don't know how to say it Doc, but very..depressed. I don't know it's just they way she

came into my office and asked for a room. She also told me that she heard there was a steep cliff nearby. She plans to visit it in the morning she said. It's not what she said Doc, it's how she said it. I

don't want to jump to conclusions, I don't know her but I have a bad feeling about her." Doc knew exactly what Sally was getting at and felt fuel rise in his tank. "You don't think she came

here to...do you?" Sally asked. Doc looked at her seeing the pleading in her eyes, as if suggesting if they should go talk to her. He gazed back in the direction of Prince's cone. "I certainly would hope

not. I'll keep an eye on her. I'm not really tired. I took a long nap today; I can afford to stay up." Sally, like everyone else knew old Doc well. "Thank you. There's nothing in there that she can used;

I had one of my maids check beforehand." she smiled weakly before driving off. Doc watched her leave then gazed back at Cone #7.

He mentally activated his newly installed cell phone, a device that he reluctantly accepted. He was truly old-school, not caring much for the confusing technology the younger generation nowadays had

but realized a car phone was not such a bad idea. Every one in town had one and his was simple enough; if he could call out and get incoming calls it was enough for him. "This is Sheriff." came the

unmistakable voice. "Sheriff, I was wondering if you could dispatch one of your men over here where I'm at. The Cozy Cone, cone 7. If somebody could patrol this area tonight, just tonight." Doc

requested. "Them bastard Delinquents taggin up stuff again?" Sheriff jumped to conclusions. Doc grinned. "Na'll Sheriff, it's nothing like that. I'll explain when your officer gets here." Since the town

had grown considerably, Sheriff ended up recruiting 4 more police officers. Radiator Springs had a small police department of 5 officers. Three were Ford mustang saleens from the big city: Duncan,

Griff and Steve all young around McQueen's age. Then there was the SUV police Escalade named Four Wheel who was mid-aged with a strong Texas accent that heralded his native Dallas roots. All

had the powerful V-8 engines, ram bars on their grills, blue/red bar lights and everything. Their paint was the traditional black and white like old Sheriff's. All four made a handsome match-up with

Sheriff's older 1950's model. The one to answer the call was young Duncan, who came pulling up a steep embankment from observing the happenings down at the Strip. "Good evening Doc, I'll be the

lookout tonight, Cone 7 sir, right?" The cruiser politely greeted. "Good evening to you son, and yes. If you don't mind, I'd like to stay here with you. The occupant of that hotel there, she may be suicidal.

I just wanna keep an eye on her for the night. Sally sad she was very upset when she checked in tonight. And I agree. I just...wanna make sure she's okay. Maybe watch her during the morning too."

Doc nosed in the direction of the said cone. "Understood sir. There's nothing in that room is there Sir, that she could use?" Duncan questioned. "No." Doc answered, still staring on. Sally assured me that

she removed anything in there that can be used."

Inside Prince sulked on her tires, and endless stream of tears streaming. She had hoped she didn't give herself away to the front desk porsche, and she suspected that porsche might have been on to her.

She really didn't know, nor did she care. She had spent her life trying to please, entertaining the masses on the Vegas Strip, doing something she loved doing. And now, she was let go, because of her

age. And her inability to keep up with the younger performers they claimed. Dancing was her life, her passion. She lived the life of a Show Girl, a coveted position most could only dream of. Such an

image-conscious society Las Vegas was, if your paint job had a minor scratch it got scandalous looks. No she wasn't fresh out of college but she still had the moves she knew it. But because they

wanted new faces, fresh mufflers she was cut loose, cast aside. Dumped like a lifeless body after a car wreck. Gorgeous on the outside with a demolished soul. They got what they wanted out of her, her

gyrating bumper in the skimpy feathers and now at 36, she was "too old. At least they were honest about it—the ones who didn't know the real deal with her most recent employer. She was sure he

rigged her files for future employment. They went by what they saw on the printout he gave. They didn't gloss it over or say something like, "We think you look great doing something else, have you

ever considered doing other things, Prince?" The new manager who took over just came out with it: "You're getting up there sweetheart. Your tank is drying up. You don't shine like you used to. And, you

won't give ME what I want. I told you I can ruin your career if you deny me. " Just flat out told her. She had to give him credit for being upfront. She knew the real reason why she was let go; he tried to

hit on her and she ignored his advances. And did it right in front of his naive wife. Most had the decency at least to do it when their wives weren't around but this new guy, a souped-up limousine was so

brazen he sexually harassed Prince right in front of his wife. Either the wife didn't care how her husband was as long as he spent the money on her or she really didn't catch on. Prince believed it to be the

latter. While her dance mates would stare at her and sneer, gossip behind her back, Prince tried to show her new boss's wife the respect he himself lacked. She didn't not mess with married vehicles. She

refused his outrageous flirting and he retaliated. First by firing her and then threatening to blackmail her. He saw to it; Prince never found another gig. Each potential employer looked at her suspiciously

when reviewing her name. Then politely lied about contacting her if they "decided". All she knew was being a show girl. She didn't know how to do anything else. Out of jealousy few other girls wanted to

be friends with her. And most guys only wanted her for one thing, one thing she had yet to give up. Yes, at her age she was still the "human" equivalent of a virgin. Weakened from crying, she shut her

eyes. Yes, all of this would end, tomorrow. "Tomorrow." she sighed as she drifted into the realm of fitful sleep.


	3. Don't Do It

The sunrise was far from lifting; it was five in the morning. The Lamborghini deliberately chose this time with the assumption that the entire

town would be asleep still. As she quietly slid out, her transfixing eyes cautiously side-glanced, scanning the area for any signs of life. When she

was convinced all was clear, she slowly crept out, engine dead silent. This was her breed's trademark; you couldn't hear a Lamborghini until you

heard it take off. She silently cruised out of the route 66 section of the town and paused. When she was a good mile or so away, she hesitated,

drew in a breath then shot off. In a blink she was tearing down the road at nearly 80 mph in under 3 seconds. Even at this speed her engine

could barely be heard. Being what she was, she had what many others, even race cars, lacked--stealth. But what she had failed to notice was

that someone had been watching her all night and suspected she might take off. The moment she stirred the motion sensors set up around the

parameter of her cone had alerted Duncan and the other officers. His back up had been staked out in various areas where, it was believed, she

might try to go. Doc had driven to The Cliff during the night and waited. Everyone knew where The Cliff was, there was only one cliff and Sally

had informed Duncan and the others last night where the Lamborghini had planned to go. Duncan and the others knew well they couldn't keep

up with her speed, even with their powerful engines, but each cruiser was armed with a catch net to shoot out and ensnare her, string her up

if need be. They also had small bean bag like pellets that shot from their ram bars through a concealed barrel. These pellets contained a static

current that rippled through a suspect car thus abruptly disabling a vehicle's engine. The engine shut off. It was something like a stun gun minus the wires.

Right now, this particular car was not a suspect in the eyes of Duncan and the others. It was clear she was a victim of emotional agony. And she had

no idea she had been had, and was secretly being followed, watched, and waited on. Doc was "up there" but was in excellent physical and mental

shape for a car his age. In many ways he still had the youth and vigor of someone less than half his age. He had always taken care of himself and it

showed even now. Not to mention as a race car in his old life, he still possessed that massive horsepower engine of his, kept in optimal shape with his racing

excursions with Lightning McQueen. All of his senses were keen to his surroundings and his perfect hearing picked up the faint engine of an approaching car.

Griff made himself known, but was eyed by the doctor with a pleading look. He had just received Steve's relay that she had passed him and that she was slowing

down in their direction. Although she didn't see him, Four Wheel said that she didn't seem like the type to make a run for it if confronted. Still it was not

reassuring to Griff. "If we have to, Sir, we have a catch line as well; if she does...drive off we can catch her by her bumper, stop her that way." A catch line was a tethered

coil, less than half an inch in diameter. But it was very strong, able to withstand up to 4,000 pounds and lambourginis didn't weigh that much. Not to mention

Griff, Steve, and Duncan were far more powerful strength wise; to be cops they had to be sturdy vehicles. Any one of them could pull twice their own weight

and Four Wheel being the biggest of all could apprehend almost anything. "Yeah, even if the lil darlin makes a dash for that there cliff, we gawt' her." Four Wheel drawled

in his Texas roadhouse slang as he rolled up over a slight hill to join them. As agreed, the three concealed themselves behind the brushes, and waited.

A black low-rise car appeared in view sitting there. After what seemed like an eternity Prince inched forward. Doc watched her stalk-like behavior; she would inch up,

stop, look around, inch forward some more, stop, look around with a look of complete devastation on her face. She was making sure no one was around. It was

evident she had lost the will to live. Convinced she had not been seen, she gradually backed up about 100 feet. She was fearful that it might hurt. Surely

death was not painless. Maybe it was. No pain could be worse that the kind she felt now, and if it was, at least it wouldn't be permanent.

"DON'T DO IT." The firm tone startled Prince so much so that she spun around wildly in a backwards doughnut, dirt and gravel kicking up in every

direction. She stood, eyes fixated with brief terror before switching back to an eerie calm. Her pistons recoiling feverishly to calm her down as she

slowly came out of her shock. Her petrified glare never left the 1951 Hudson Hornet as he cautiously came closer. Despite the bizarre mix of

terror and anger on her face, Doc couldn't stop staring at those eyes. Her features. The lambourghini noted right away this was a much older car,

a classic of some sort, well kept up. His deep set eyes were blue, and how his headlights sat on his face made him appear as though he was

wearing glasses. He looked like he had seen a great deal in his life, yet he had an expression about his features that made him unusually

handsome. He slowly rolled closer. "Don't do it." he repeated again, more quietly. "Whatever it is that's troubling you, it cannot be that bad." The

Lamborghini said nothing. She simply sat crouched against the ground, staring him up as he approached. Her eyes shifted nonchalantly as she

saw a patrol car quietly pull up, watching the situation. "I can tell you're hurting. I know. But this is not the answer." Doc's voice caused her

unblinking eyes to shift immediately back in his direction. She still said nothing. She revved her engine debating whether to make a run for it or

run on and go off the cliff.


	4. It's Okay To Let Go

**This is a little short. Sorry. Next one will be longer. Promise.  
All thoughts in Italic.**

Her pose was timorous, frozen in a position of threatening to spin off. She was unknowingly revving her engine in sporadic bursts, not realizing it so focused she was on the

figure in front of her. She didn't even notice that three police vehicles had emerged on either side. Griff and Steve took their positions around her, trying to appear more

reassuring than prepared for a high speed pursuit. In a situation like this, the last thing anyone wanted was to appear ready to pounce on her. Steve inconspicuously

unveiled his static electrical firearm from the left side of his ram bar. Static Electrical Firearm, or S.E.F. for short in police jargon, trained on the right rear tire of the target

car. The gun barrel was built to be concealed within the ram bars if the officer chose as well as eject out in full view. It could still fire even if it was barely visible and police

used this tactic when dealing with a subject that they didn't want to alarm. The element of surprise was key in a successful take-down. And it didn't matter which part of the

car the S.E.F. pellet bag hit, even if it struck the rubber of one's tires the electric current was powerful enough to jolt the target and kill the subject's engine without seriously

harming the suspect. Said suspect simply rolled to a stop as his or her engine died and waited involuntarily as the police caught up. It took several minutes for a car's

systems to turn back on but police only needed a few minutes, if not seconds to take a person down while in such a state. S.E.F.s were in fact, kill switches shot from a

pursuing cop. Steve knew he'd have to be fast to strike the Lamborghini and one thing cops were known for was being good shots.

"I understand your name is Prince. It's an interesting name." Doc's voice said as she sat, glaring at him. When she didn't respond the Hornet hesitated then continued.

"That's a 1,000 foot drop there young lady, that cliff. Rocks, boulders and everything else on the way down. I promise you it'll be quite a painful fall on the way down and you

won't just perish, you 'l die in pieces. Doc spoke solemnly. _LET ME GUESS, YOU WENT OFF AND DIED AND CAME BACK._ Prince thought to herself. Outwardly her only

response was a slight smirk of agitation. "I know you're hurting, I see it. I can't possibly know how much you hurt because I'm not you, but I know what it's like to suffer.

And want to die. Believe me young girl..I know." The Doc's hypnotic eyes were silently begging her to reconsider. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"You're not female." she responded. Her voice was low, it was soft and pleasant, almost cat-like but held a sinister edge of anguish to it. Then something in her snapped. She

couldn't explain it; her reason for it left her. She only saw him, and three other males and all reasoning left her. "**HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE**

** TO SUFFER?!!!! YOU'RE NOT FEMALE**!!!!" Her sudden outburst startled the four men so much they jumped on their axles. Doc saw it all over her, the tone of her voice

lent undoubtedly to years of pent up hate. It was pure, unadulterated hate. Almost hatred of the opposite sex, hatred of what she was. Prince had no idea she had screamed

at the top of her compressor; she just unleashed everything she had experienced in a furious roar. Her stony stare stubbornly refused to break down but inside she was

threatening to erupt into tears. Please, please don't let me cry in front of them. She never showed her feelings in public. She wept only in privacy. Doc sat and waited, not

wanting to put her on the spot but he realized she was fighting hard to keep it in. "Griff, Steve. Four Wheel, leave us, please. Just..back up a little and let me talk to her."

"..Doc?" Four Wheel questioned. "Please." Doc said, never taking his gaze off Prince. Right now he was watching someone who need release, to release it all, and without an

audience. Cautiously, the three vehicles backed away several yards and Doc drove closer. Prince's unwavering glare stared him down the entire way, lids twitching in the fight

to not lose it in front of him. She sat glaring hatefully at the old car. Who the hell was he and why couldn't he just leave her the hell alone? "No one was there for me when I

let it go. I suffered --and wept--alone. But you don't have to do this alone. It's okay to let go. Sometimes it's good to cry. The worst thing you can do is keep it pinned inside.

Prince, it's okay." She viewed him as an intruder about to see her break down. Prince shook the front half of her body, mouth narrowing into a tight slit. Her eyelids squinted,

peering up at him. It was coming she knew it. Unable to keep her composure she finally broke down and wailed, her body wracking convulsively as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Doc was beside her, a front tire outstretched and placed on top of her like a

one-armed embrace.


	5. Thank You For Your Kindness

No more words were exchanged. All that could be heard were the choking cries of Prince as she lost all bearing against the Hornet's shoulder. She

was exposed to the world for all to see and right now she didn't care. It only mattered to her that someone was allowing her to unleash against

him without judgement.

**Thirty minutes later.**

Prince had cried herself to the point of exhaustion. Mater was called to tow her back to Radiator Springs. She just sat and gazing ahead of her in a

thousand-mile stare, totally oblivious to being lifted by her back end and dragged into town. Doc and Four Wheel never left her side while Steve and

Griff agreed to provide police escort back to town. The ride back was slow but smoothe along Route 66. Other members of the town had gathered

to watch the extremely rare glimpse of a magnificent Lamborghini in their midst. Not to mention that but she was absolutely stunning. With the

morning sun now up, it reflected off of her in a way that made her black paint appear a blue-black black. She stared dully in front of her, not even

aware that she had onlookers. It wasn't so much of what she happened to be to them; it was more of what could be so wrong that she would

want to plunge off of a cliff and total herself? This was the reason why most were looking at her. Doc instructed Mater to tow her into his medical

shop. His practice was large and spacious, with several compartments large enough to house several patients like an emergency room. Mater

gently parked her in a far corner and unhooked himself. "Thanks Mater." Doc nodded "Iz she gon be awwrigt Doc?" The rusted old truck was

genuinely worried. "Yeah." Doc answered quietly. Mater glanced back one last time before leaving. As soon as he did Doc noticed that the

Lamborghini had fallen asleep.

"You've lost quite a bit of fluids there. Take this, it will help you feel better." --Sometime later Doc had pushed a can of medicated oil gingerly in

front Prince who had just woken up. Sensing she was coming to, he has prepared the medicine and offered it. She was so stressed from crying

that all four of her tires had bent under her, signaling her inability to completely stand. Unable to face him, she swallowed. Now she felt like a

fool, having laid bare all her frustration in front of a complete stranger. No, strangers. Two or three other cars saw that too. COP cars. She suddenly felt

embarrassed. Never looking at him and swallowing, she nodded slightly. "Thank you, Sir. For your kindness." she added almost as an

afterthought. Although he knew her gratitude was sincere, he was still taken aback by the last add-on. No one had ever been kind to her? If he

had eyebrows, his right one would have been cocked so his right windshield lid went up considerably higher than the left. Yet he grinned. "Your

welcome. It'll build your strength back up. Look, you don't have to tell me what is going on with you. You don't ever have to tell me if you don't

want. When the time is right, IF you want to discuss it, just know you have someone willing to listen. If you don't like it here we can get your

cozy cone back, and there are plenty of neighbors here always eager to offer up a garage to travelers. You're in a delicate state right now. I think

it might do you some good to stay here, relax for a while." At this Prince shut her eyes, sinking even lower to the floor until she looked almost

like a squat piece of black metal with a bulge in it. Doc couldn't help but stare at how she literally seemed to melt into the floor. It just so

happened that her space had black tile. She almost disappeared into it. Then on the flip side, it almost looked comical how she pancaked herself

against the floor, almost as if she was brooding. This situation was no laughing matter however and his smile quickly disappeared. As low to the

ground as she was she was still a piece of splendid work and Doc's fading grin morphed into an outright mesmerized stare. It wasn't just her

shape, it was everything about her. The eyes, her frame, that voice. That sultry, very feminine voice. That "other feeling" he was getting last

night was creeping back up on him, those impure thoughts. He decided to leave, not knowing that Prince was watching him go. She didn't know

why but she found him to be different.


	6. Wet Dream

**12:37 P.M. in the afternoon:**

Prince had re-cooperated much of her strength and stood in the entrance of Doc's medical shop, unsure of what to do next. She was reluctant to venture out as the

streets were full of people. Doc had left her there, assuming she would fall back to sleep. Everyone was staring at her, she was sure of it. Those that caught sight of

her indeed did. She knew the looks were unintentional and they were not meant to be rude. It wasn't everyday that a Lambourghini diablo sat parked anywhere in

Radiator Springs. She was sure some were murmuring amongst themselves of the morning's past events. Certainly news like that was bound to get out but she

could tell even those that did whisper quietly were not doing so with any particular malice. It was more like...worried whispers. She side-glanced nervously, feeling

all eyes on her. They all seemed more admiring, and a couple, Flo and Ramone merely smiled at her. She quickly shifted her gaze away in an attempt to pretend as

if she didn't see them knowing she failed miserably. Guarded, she slowly crept out, tempted to spin her wheels and make a run for it down the road. This time, not

to end her life but to get away from the atmosphere. The thickness unnerved her. She was in a strange place and really didn't know these people. She shut her

eyes and tried to ignore the silent hawking she knew circulated in the tense air. Some who realized they had been outright staring checked themselves and grinned

at her. Not phony grins, but ones of genuine hospitality. She made a quick turn into Flo's V-8 cafe. Ever the hospitality queen, Flo was quick to follow after her.

"What is your name honey?" she asked soulfully. Prince's mysterious eyes gazed ruefully at her "Prince." she answered simply. "I take it you ain from around here."

"No, I'm not. I'm from Las Vegas. I'm originally from Phoenix, and I moved to Vegas in the early 90s." Prince was quickly warming up to Flo, having discovered Flo

was a Motorama show car, something similar to a Vegas show girl. And she really envied Flo's design. Flo got her to open up quickly and she and Ramone offered up

space at their home. They had a spacious well-furnished garage just waiting to be used. Ramone had installed it in the 70s and never used it. But it was gorgeous.

Prince was won over and agreed to room with them. She didn't want Doc to think she didn't like his office. He just seemed like the type who needed to be alone

with alot of business, she figured, "doctor business". Doc was neither offended nor happy, ever the elder patriarch of the town, he merely accepted the decision.

Whatever talk Flo had with her, it seemed to liven Prince up and that alone made him happy. The rest of the day was uneventful with Flo and Ramone working to

get their new guest settled in. The "in" crowd was expected to start rolling in tonight. This time, he chose to charge in his office rather than his garage, just in case

someone got hurt on the Strip, he would be ready and waiting. The real racing didn't begin until around 11 pm so he could get several hours of rest till then. this

was Friday. In a few hours the distant sound of music would vibrate through the town along with the show off engine cars gearing up for Friday Night Dragging. Doc

was tired now, having been up all night the previous night to spy on Prince and having metted out justice at the court house for several traffic offense cases, he

wanted nothing more than a good sleep.

It would be anything but a good night's sleep.

Well, it would be a very bad night in a good way.

Boost had left the strip, his hood pounding. He had just gotten over a dirty air filter bug, one he had brought on from his stubborn refusal to get it changed on time

like he should have. He was much better now but his head still throbbed from a post-illness headache. All of the loud noise at the strip was too much, even for him

so he had decided to call it a night and head back to The Shack. The Shack were apartment garage complexes inside Radiator Springs where most of the younger

residents lived. Built just after The Piston Cup finals when McQueen set up headquarters here. On his way home Boost decided to visit Doc Hudson for something to

relieve his throbbing hoodache. It was only 8-o-clock P.M. so more than likely the old man was still up. Unbeknownst to Boost, Doc had fallen asleep early, which

was rare for him. The Road Hazards had just returned from California so they hadn't caught up on the town's gossip yet. It was hard to believe, but the Road Hazard

Delinquents were not the gossiping types, the one thing they never cared for was "gossip". None of them were "behind your back" types, a trait everyone in

Radiator Springs, Doc included admired them for. The four hip-hop drag racers never said anything behind backs that they wouldn't say to one's face. And could back

up anything said. And could take what they dished out. They had no problems with criticism; they welcomed it. They expected honesty because they gave it. Blunt

and to the point was how these four thugs rolled. Sometimes a little too blunt, but the truth to them was always better than sugar-coated lies. Boost had heard

some meager talk of a black sport scar that Doc and the cops talked out of driving over a cliff, or something to that effect earlier. Really, he was feeling too sick to

listen. All he wanted right now was a dose of that good medicine Doc had for headaches and a good sleep. If he had known Doc was asleep he never would have

been this inconsiderate in stopping by. Doc's office was opened as he had an open-door policy even in his off time. But strange sounds were coming from inside. The

breathing was labored but not that of something wrong, more like something _off_.

Prince was lying on her hood. A very awkward position for any car, but right now she didn't care. It felt too good. Doc was on a hydraulic lift inches above her, his

undercarriage almost connecting hers. He had a jack-like device running from him to her undercarriage and he gritted his teeth in a savage snarl. "YES," he growled

threateningly but in an almost noble tone, barely audible. He was working it, HIS "it", and clearly, his age was hardly an issue. Prince was gasping so hard she could

barely catch her intake valves, periodically letting out a loud, choking scream when Doc thrusted suddenly with a huge roar of his race car engine. "**AAAAAAAHHHH!**

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! 'gasp' AAAAAAAAAHHH!!! 'gasp' D-DOC! DO-OOOOOC!!! PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON ME 'so-oob' PLE-EE-EEAAAASE!!!**" Her

frantic screams only drove him harder. He bit down on the counter in front of him as he ground his underside deeper against the floor he lay on, then he let go,

squinting his already shut eyes tighter. He let out an animal-like growl, accompanied by a powerful rage of his engine, his eyes opened into slits. "Sssss...FUCK."

He hissed a string of very obscene curses. "Sssss, damn girl, 'grrrrrr...'." The words gnarled from his grill, his mouth distorted into a vicious sneer. His motions were lecherous,

rough and sensuous. He shut his eyes again, and revved his engine so hard that warm air from his belly sent papers on either side of him fluttering about the room. His back

tires rubbed feverishly at the floor behind him. When he kicked at the wall behind him he abruptly woke up. Dazed, he eyed his surrounding in a state of confusion. Then he looked

petrified.

Boost was just standing there, mouth nearly to the floor and his windshield lids so wide the whites of his eyes seemed to warp outwards. He hadn't moved the entire

time once he strolled upon the scene of Doc Hudson **MASTURBATING IN HIS SLEEP**.

Oh no. Oh Chrys' no.

Too shocked to say or do anything, he stood there for a good eight minutes or so, fixated on the lewd scenario before him. Lewd it was but it was arousing to watch.

But what was so surprising was that it was DOC. Not that he was "old" for that had absolutely nothing to do with it. You were never too old to do it and Hudson

wasn't a bad looking guy for his age. Boost and his pals joked that if they were girls they too would be on his tail pipe. But it was just that Boost had known Doc for

years now, and from what he had heard and seen himself from his time here the doctor/judge just didn't seem like the type that would "do it". He seemed to lack

any romantic interest in anything and there was certainly nothing wrong with that. Some just didn't care to do it, Boost concluded. He figured either Doc was gay or just

asexual. Or Doc was just too absorbed in his profession for this shit, he was the upstanding calm father figure of the whole town and, well, he was DOC! It was just hard to

picture DOC jacking off!!! In his sleep no less! Doc was mortified. If he was terrified he had no idea the sort of terror Boost felt once realizing he had been caught

red-handed ogling what should have been a private moment. Doc was terrified as he realized he had been getting off in a perverted dream. This was just not like him.

This had never happened to him. He had been dreaming of Prince and had started "playing with himself". To make matters worse he was busted in the act! Boost!

Whatever ailment Boost had vanished. He snapped out of his trance at the third call of his name and stood facing a glaring Doc Hudson. Doc's fear had quickly worn

off, replaced by a combination of anger and embarrassment. "Please tell me you didn't see it, right?" The Hudson Hornet begged him. His tone did not match the

scowl on his face. It was a plea accompanied by one of those "Speak of it and I'll kill you" glares. Boost's open mouth moved only an inch and only one sound could

come out. "..Uuuu...". "How long you've been standing there?!" Doc thundered again, this time causing Boost to back up into a shelf. Containers cascaded down on

him along with part of the shelf. "DOC! D-huu--I..Wha-whu I--I didn't know you wanted some alone time." The young car stammered with a massive grin fixated

across his face. This was just too funny. "And who's Prince???" he questioned beaming, remembering the Hornet muttering the name. Completely embarrassed and

wanting to hide Doc advanced on him. "None of your business now get outta here before I weld your muffler shut. And you better not talk about it,understand?

Now GET OUT!" Boost was laughing. "I didn't know you had it in you Doc! You KNOW I'ma tell my dogs, you KNOW that. I gotta let my boys know this but you

KNOW we won't tell nobody else. WE keep good secrets man, you know that!. The four of us ain gon say nothin but you was gettin your freak on, I see how

you do." he playfully taunted. Doc sank on his wheels until his nearly enclosed rear wheels completely disappeared under him. "She must be a fine-ass shawty

for you to get your grind on like THAT. DAMN. I didn't know you got down like THAT." Boost was feeling alot better now, enough to return to the Strip.

As soon as he left Doc's hood and front sides blushed a deep blue. What on earth had possessed him to do that? Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he sneered and

retreated back to the safety of his office.


	7. Back To The Strip

**I watched 'Cars' for the hundreth time and just now noticed that DJ has a GOATEE!! He does! Look at the bottom part of his grill; **

**it's ****a goatee. Warning: more languege, implied sexual thoughts.**

The sound of **_Snoop Dogg (What's My Name Pt 2)_** blasted from DJ's sound system. The Strip was bustling with hundreds of

participants, many of whom had arrived from far off. For hundreds of miles the Radiator Springs Drag Strip and Axle nightclub were the

only two hot spots for many partygoers, it was within reach for them. It was a really cool place. Many had the chance to travel to

nearby California or the much larger city of Phoenix but chose not to, preferring the attraction of The Strip. There was never a

shortage of clubbers. The Strip/Axle drew even Los Angelinos and San Diegans-- big city rollers. Right now there was a low rider

"hopping" competition. Among the huge throngs of gawkers were some longtime Radiator residents: Flo, Ramone, and of course,

Fillmore. As the saying went, one was never "too old" to party. Many of the young bloods actually dug the three classics; they liked

Fillmore's hippie calm, Flo's sassy Motown 60s flair and had mad respect for Ramone. He was what the young bloods called an "O.G."

Original Gangster, one of the original low riders. Not to mention that long before he met Flo, Ramone was a chollo, a Latino slang term

for a gang member. Ramone had a wild streak when he met his innocent Flo, he was a low-riding bad boy. He had brushes with the

law and got into trouble. That's how the 60s were for him and his crew. And he was proud of it. And it still showed. He long ago gave

up his gang life but never gave up his low rider style; Flo liked it too much and he still pretty much had his chollo attitude; the

younger cars, non-low riders and low riders alike were "feelin" his paint job. His hydraulics were crazy, but even Ramone couldn't

touch some of these boys. He was awestruck as one arrogant low rider squared off with another in a match to see who could bounce

highest off the ground. These cars weren't just hopping, they BOUNCED. Ramone knew something about hopping. He could bounce

too but not like this. Both vehicles literally were jumping several feet off the ground, the amount of hydraulics they had was so

extensive. It looked bizarre to Ramone but in this day and age this was what was hot. When each car hit the ground it looked painful

to watch, but these guys were used to it.

This was hopping to the extreme. Sometimes they didn't come down on all fours but landed one tire at a time in a circle, like a

spinning coin toppling over. This sent either automobile's center off balance and into a circling spiral in one spot. The crowd went

crazy. "Wow." Ramone beamed. The low riding truck really got outrageous. He was a 2002 Dodge ram full bed with a fluorescent

yellow and lime-green paintjob. His flat bed began to rise up. This took the cake. "This guy just doesn't have hydraulics; he's got em in

his fricking BED???" Ramone was thunderstruck. The flat bed to Fillmore looked like some kind of bird. It didn't help that he was drunk

and hallucinating. "Fly." he chanted at the truck bed. The entire bed of the truck rose about 6 feet in the air, parted in TWO--and then

SPUN. It was like a giant canopy over his head cut in half and spinning. The crowd went berserk. This was too much. Ramone cursed

to himself in Spanish, mesmerized. It wasn't over yet. The car began bouncing again, going, going, going, until he stood vertically

upright. And he stayed that way. More cheers from the crowd. He was trying to rock himself back down but gravity was not agreeing

with him. "Ooooooo-NO honey." Flo crooned anticipating what would happen next. Despite him wildly flailing his front two tires out in

from of him he began to tilt back. Slowly. To his chagrin he fell flat on his back with a sickening crush. The moment of impact sent two

of his expensive hubcaps flying in either direction and his main hydraulic line between his back wheels to snap. It pointed sideways,

spraying his own hydraulic fluid all over him. The crowd cheered wildly. They loved smash-ups. Any kind of damage and destruction

was always a pleaser especially if no one got seriously hurt. Ramone grimaced "OW! Dude that had to hurt." he moaned before

bursting out laughing. There was a roar of rowdy roots and uncontrolled laughter. It WAS funny the way the poor sap landed. He was

in an embarrassing predicament to be sure, but even he took it in stride, scooting himself along on his back in an attempt to right

himself. His four wheels roved helplessly like arms and legs. The truck couldn't resist gloating as he circled his fallen rival, periodically

rising and dropping on all fours. Like a shark circling its prey, his hydraulics whirred as he drove around taunting the hapless car. He

deliberately spun one of his chrome rims. "HAA! That's what you get! With them cheap two-dolla hubcaps! WHO' DA MAN?! HUH?!

WHO THE MAN?!!." "Man shut up and help me up; this ain funny!" the car demanded. Eventually he was able to kick his limbs enough

to flip himself upright. "Yeah it IS funny!" Wingo howled back with DJ next to him on his side, back wheels kicking. He crossed his front

wheels over him to hold his aching sides. Boost pulled up beside his laughing pals,his face still wearing the shock of catching Doc off

guard. "Yo man I thought you was turnin in for the night, you miss us that much?" Wingo teased. "Let's just say that my hood ache is

gone now." "Doc musta really hooked you up dude; the old man can get down with his medicines. Shit be working like a mother, man.

That back country shit of his be workin for real tho'." DJ quipped, remembering the swift treatment Doc gave him for an upset fuel

tank. "Oh he got down alright." Boost commented blankly, not answering DJ per se, more of an off-handed remark. DJ missed what he

said and continued on: "Doc be GOIN DOWN inthat office man. With that medical knowledge. He's a good doctor; you gotta hand it to

him." When Boost heard "going down" a dirty thought came to mind rather than DJ's reference to Doc's medical know-how. He

suddenly burst out laughing, recalling how Doc Hudson bit down on the counter in front of him. The way the doctor did it; it wasn't just

a bite. Boost swore he saw Doc's tongue come out and lave the underside of the counter, as if he were licking something.

He burst into a fresh round of laughter, unaware that Wingo and DJ were looking at him. "What? What man, tell us. We don't keep

secrets from each other dog now spill it out." DJ pushed. "Come on G-let it out!" Wingo bumped Boost impatiently. "Let's just say I

paid Doc a visit and watching him tune himself up cured my illness." The others shot Boost a questioning look. "He was jacking off in

his office okay?!!! He was dreaming about revving a cutie and he was jacking off in his sleep. I mean he was going to town too dude."

Wingo and DJ simultaneously morphed large grins across their faces. DJ hit the ground rolling."You a damn lie." Wingo found it had to

believe. "Hudson Hornet Doc? OUR Doc?" "Playing doctor without a nurse. I B.S. you not G. I mean it was RAW. It wasn't a wimpy little

buck here, a push there Doc was WORKIN IT." Boost let loose a maniacal grin. Adding to the expression he performed little gyratiing

mini thrusts into the dirt ground.

"Wait till Snot Rod hears this. The Doc is his idol. He's gonna trip hard." Wingo shook his head. The next morning Doc rolled out early

to greet none other than Boost waiting for him by the stop light. Just for the heck of it the transluscent gray/purple sports car chose

that moment to put on the song of his choice.

_You and me baby_

_we ain't nothing but mammals_

_so let's do it like they do_

_on the discovery channel_

Doc immediately recognized the song as **_The Bad Touch by the Bloodhound Gang_**, and the explicit version at that. Putting two and

two together he shot Boost a dangerous glare. Boost couldn't help but laugh. Doc resigned himself to the fact that The Road Hazard

Delinquents would never let him live this down. He really couldn't get mad at Boost and his friends no matter how much they irritated

him sometimes. Doc wasn't as behind-the-times as some thought; he knew the song and it's racy content. This kind of music was far

from his type but anybody with a fully charged battery could tell what the song was imposing. Even Doc knew what the lyrics were

getting at. "You know we're gonna clown you for the rest of your life. So live with it." Boost playfully nudged into the Hornet, forcing

Doc to slightly veer to the side. He just eyed the youngster. "Seriously Doc, I'm up early to offer to fix the shelf I knocked down last

night." Doc was warmed. "I sure enough appreciate it son. Why don't we stop at Flo's get some breakfast first. It's on me." he

offered. "Works for me and I'm starving." Boost had no qualms.


	8. Wow

Flo's Cafe was quite busy that morning. Ever since the town returned to the map she found herself unable to handle the influx of customers alone so she hired three

waitresses. She needed a total of five to comfortably run her business but she and her 3 employees managed for the time being. As Boost followed Doc to a corner of the

diner he looked up and saw her coming in. Her copious eyes seemed to scrutinize everything around her. He could barely make out that she was a car as the top of her hood

skimmed barely level with the tables. "Whoa, Doc. Is that her?" Boost asked breathtakingly. Doc hadn't seen Prince come in yet but when he did he froze. After a few

moments he answered. "Yeah. That's her." Boost, like his other friends was happily involved in a relationship of his own so he was unavailable. But if he was single he would

not have hesitated to move for it. Even if she was much older than him. By 15 years to be exact. Boost was 22 but he could tell the Lambourghini, who was no where close to

being old, was somewhere around in her 30s. She just didn't act like a twenty-something. She seemed mature and honestly, most cars in his age group were not known for

their maturity. They were still somewhat stuck between that teenage/become a real adult age. That's why they called people like Boost young adults. They were fully grown

up but not quite. He had never seen a Lambourghini before. Only in books and on TV. To see one in the metal was mind boggling. She looked sleek, like she could get up and

put even Lightning McQueen to shame on the highway. Lambourghinis went what? Well over 250 mph? Not even race cars could go that fast. Unless that race car happened

to be a Lambourghini and he understood something about Lambourghinis not wanting to race professionally because they didn't want to crash and dent their looks. Or some

conceited crap like that. Most thought racing was beneath them. So he heard, but this one didn't look conceited or stuck up. She looked like she had some major shit going on

in her life, Boost could see that but she didn't strike him as "too good" for anything. She did strike him as lonely, wanting to fit in. He knew absolutely nothing about her and

maybe her attitude was ugly, certainly her looks were not. He could see why Doc dreamed about her. "Wow, Doc. I can see why you dreamt about _HER_. If you're gonna fall for

a high-end car you might as well pick her. She's GORGEOUS." Boost commented sincerely. "I'd like to think I'm in her league but I may not be kid." Doc murmured. "What

makes you say that? You're the upstanding dude of this community, the whole town likes you. You used to be a famous race car; you USED to be rich and all that. You the

crew chief of Lightning McQueen--a famous race car. You got connections dog! She ain out of your league man! Seriously Doc; hey man..she may not even be the high

maintenance type. Maybe she ain got no money man; she could be really down to earth; you don't know that. Maybe she doesn't wanna be all the things expected of her,

who knows? Hell yeah you're old but you're a good-looin old man. I could see you and her together." Boost told him. "If that's her then yeah I can definately see why you had

THAT KIND OF DREAM." He eyeballed Doc. Doc kept observing Prince as she talked to Flo. "No. It's too early, she has issues she needs to deal with, that I'd like to help her deal

with, first."

The image of her attempted suicide was still fresh on his mind. He kept playing that line over and over: "You're not female. How could you possibly know what it's

like to suffer?" No, he was a male who could never know what it was to be a suffering female but he knew what it was like to be a male rejected at the top of his racing

career. Not just rejected but shown the door to the scrap yard. Not just that world left him, but the female he thought was at his side left with his racing contract. And the

rookie that replaced him. The one that caused his wreck. He woke up from his coma months later, endured a year of painful therapy and being rebuilt, she came to visit him

initially in the hospital but gradually came by less and less. Doctor mechanics told Hudson he may not ever race again. It was a miracle he even woke from his coma. Hudson

didn't expect her to stay with him if he couldn't drive or get around. But he expected her to at least remain his friend. Renewed and ready to hit the track in 1955 and that's

when it all came crashing down. Not even so much as a verbal "Welcome Back Kid!" But what really hurt him was she acted like she didn't see him. Like she didn't even know

him. He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Prince roll out and Flo came over. "Well good morning you two. Seems like I got another pair of tires to help me out. I just

offered Prince a part-time waitress job here and she's taking it. It'll give her something to do." She greeted pushing two quarts of chocolate flavored hot oil at them. "Hey Flo

wus'sup?" Boost nodded. Later that day Doc was sitting out by Willy's Butte when he heard a barely audible "Doc Hudson?". He turned to see Prince sitting there. So quiet she

was she had pulled right up behind him. His gauges secretly whirred with joy. "I...never got a chance to thank you for helping me by the Cliff the other day. And I didn't mean

to blow up on...you. I'm sorry. And I wanted to thank you for being there for me when I needed it most."Her voice, so soft and whispy. Doc's eyes beamed. "Your welcome. I

hear you'll be working at the cafe." "Yes. Waitress. It's new to me..hope I don't screw it up." she said with a nervous smile. Being around Doc was making her nervous, in a

strange way. She wasn't creeped out by him; it was a sensation she couldn't explain. He had the most hypnotic grin, always turning up a corner of his mouth to expose his

pearly teeth. It was father like yet so...salacious to look at. "I'll see you later, Doc." she bid farewell. She cruised off, sighing a huge breath of relief. She felt like she was going

to wet her muffler just now because of how he looked at her. She was going to wet herself because she _wanted_ him to look at her like that???


	9. Wings Like An Angel

**_Italics_ indicate thinking.**

Doc knew he shouldn't follow her but curiosity got the better of him once again. She left behind a polished scent trail. Being a girl car she obviously

had a smell to her. Females were fickled about which scents they wore and tended to stick to one specific car perfume. Hers was the smell of

something French, an expensive kind no doubt. Doc inhaled deeply, momentarily savoring the smell of where she stood. He trailed far behind her

knowing he wouldn't lose track. He remembered this route. It was the same woodland trip Sally introduced Lightning McQueen to days after his

arrival when they took a drive together. Snapping from his stupor Doc sped up now, slightly apprehensive that the ebony car might carry on with

her failed attempt to end her misery. _What am I thinking? Snap out of it Hudson!! Now h_e was gunning it. He knew he should have ordered her

forcefully booted; it had been too soon to let her have free reign of the town. He was judge; he could do it. He had even ordered that she not be

followed because he trusted her. He had been too swept up by her moments before to realize he should have been following her and now she

was far ahead of him. She was to be under a suicide watch --without her knowledge. He personally vowed to watch her closely and he failed her!

Fury and fear rising in his tanks he gunned it harder. White wall tires be dammned. No racing tires on but he didn't care. Maybe others trusted her

enough to let her wander off alone but he didn't.

Paranoia taking over, he tore through the stone-carved underpass and out the other side, slowing down when relief greeted his eyes.

Prince crawled to a stop on the bridge in front of the towering waterfall. Doc didn't want to be seen but wanted to be close enough to catch

her should she do something stupid. But he found this impossible to do without her picking up his presence. After several indecisive seconds, he

decided to go for it. About to rush out of concealment and confront her he halted. He realized soon enough he had overreacted. Tranced by the

water falling behind her, she arched up until her body developed a slight curve in the top, her eyelids shut. She was relaxed, relishing the fine mist

of wetness that sheathed her. Both of her doors began to open out, then upwards. The doors of cars like her didn't open"normally" like most

vehicles. They went straight up and stretched at an angle. Doc had never seen anything like it. She looked angellic, like she belonged in the

clouds. Captivated by the stunning scene, Doc backed up into the tunnel again and watched. It was like watching a bird, a fledgling preparing to

take flight on its wings. Her doors looked like wings. She had an angellic appearance as she broke into to a smile. "You have the wings of an

angel." Doc muttered. Now he saw why Lambourghinis were so prized for their looks. She almost didn't look real. As if she might disappear if he

went up to her. She was at peace, taking in the sounds, the smells, the wonder of nature and the sun glistened off of her wet body, creating a

transluscent effect in her paint. A rainbow began to form behind her as water mist bounced off of her. Even the steel joints that connected her

door wings reflected the glare of the sun. For the first time, Prince understood why Sally fell in love with this place. It was enchanting. And she

understood why the small town of Radiator Springs appealed to Sally, to many who lived there. It was a friendly place. Cars took care of one

another. All the big cities she had lived in she had never experienced the kind of warmth as she had in the two days she had been here.

And then there was that knightly old doctor and town judge. With eyes partially hidden by lazy eyelids. The mystique stare of his. Doc didn't just

look at people he stared through them. Not critically but in a way as if he was analyzing what he was staring at. It was as if he could peer into

their souls and tell what they were thinking. Then his crooked smile. He _never_ etched a full-blown smile; it was always a lop-sided grin that bore

some part of his teeth. It was as if he was hiding a raw snarl behind that perfect smile. A predatorial snarl directed at HER. Surely someone like

him would never be attracted to such a young thing like her. She never dreamed of an attraction to such an aged model, but there was a pull he

was creating on her. But it was not like her to make her feelings known. She had learned from the past it was best to keep everything a secret.

Close herself up, never let anyone in and she stayed safe. Exist alone like a ghost. A lonely existence but it was that or take a chance and get

damaged. Neither choice was ideal, but it was the lesser of two evils. Much like Doc. He too lived a phantom existence at least until Lightning

arrived. Hudson, his real name was. She wondered what meaning that name had. She was no fan or Piston Cup racing. It was just

not her thing. She didn't hate racing but as someone who seldom followed the sport she had never heard of "Hudson Hornet". She could only

recall a few years back of the whole world making a huge deal out of a big-time race car who had gone missing then suddenly reappeared but that

was about all. She quit watching TV for a week because that was all they talked about. "Doc Hudson." She repeated. "Hudson. If only I had the

courage to tell you how I feel around you."

With unbelievable grace she lifted herself up on her back wheels and gracefully perched her front tires on the bridge, stretching. Her "wings began

to close.


	10. Instant DriveThru

_**Note: this dance idea was taken from Madonna's "Beautiful Stranger" video. So, such idea is NOT mine. The rest of this chapter idea-yes. Also they're may be typos. I had no chance to recheck yet. I'm getting to it. **_

_**Several nights later:**_

Flo was exhausted so Prince offered to close up the café for her. Flo was grateful. Business had really picked up. She really needed to

get more waitresses. The cafe had such a unique 50s du-wop feel to it. Prince romanticized about the past era, what it must have

been like. She admired the old black and white pictures that hung about, and she saw the life-sized cardboard cutout of none other

than Doc Hudson sitting in the corner by the jute box. It was learned that an artist working in a graphics industry in Hollywood

dedicated the cardboard "statue" of Doc Hudson as he looked now. It was done from a studio photo Doc had recently taken, then

blown up into this wonder. Ahh, the wonders of photography. An idea came to mind. She cruised over to the jute box. The jute box

was classic 1950s style but had been updated to include a huge range of music from that time on up, right to present day. Since the

town's revitilization, Flo wanted to accomodate all travellers into her establishment, to include music everyone couldenjoy regardless

of their age or musical preference. She had everything from Elvis Presley to The Doors, R.E.M. to Rhianna. This box had both traditional

vinyl 45-inch records and CDs. She found a favorite from a favorite artist: MADONNA. It was time to have a little fun. She was all by

herself, what harm could it do?

Lightning McQueen had just arrived back to Radiator Springs from a sponsor tour cross-country and was happy to be home. Having

been gone for about a month he was anxious to see his fianc'ee Sally and the others. Sally and the Delinquent Road Hazards, now

some of Lightning's closest friends had all gone out to meet him down the road and were escorting him back. With them were Mia and

Tia, the twin mini cars. They had changed much over the past few years, no longer the fickled groupies who changed race car idols on

a whim. Even back then Lightning adored them, even when they turned to Chick. But they, like many others were put off by Chick's

deliberate wrecking of Strip Weathers. Alot could happen in a few years. They were starting to mature and ran into the Delinquents.

Now, they were romantically involved and it was very real. Tia was now DJ's girlfriend, "Shawty" as he called her while Snot Rod had

snagged Mia. It was no "groupie" act, Mia and Tia seriously in love with them and to be sure, DJ and Snot Rod would sacrifice their

lives for them. "So Griff and all those guys were able to stop her. That's good. Thank Chrysler she didn't drive off. She seems really

nice." Lightning pondered. "She is. She's quite shy but she's comming around. You know how Flo is; she got Prince to open up very

quick." Tia remarked as DJ playfully nudged into her. "Will you stop that?! What's with you tonight DJ, geez!" Tia barked at him. "I'm

feelin frisky baby you know me! Cain't a homie get some LUV from his woman?!" DJ retorted. "Yeah, she's a former Las Vegas show

girl. Very sweet. You'll meet her tomorrow." Sally told Lightning as the small entourage moved on. The sound ofmusic coming from the

cafe caught everyone's attention. It was nearly midnight; why was there music coming from the diner? This was a weeknight. It

wasn't annoyingly loud but weird nonetheless. They knew it wasn't Flo, she never kept the cafe open past 10 P.M. It was just

unheard of. So as not to be had, all of them slowy strolled silently up and peered through the windows.

**_Haven't you heard_**

**_You're some kind of beautiful stranger_**

**_You must be good for me...._**

As the lyrics to Madonna's "Beautiful Stranger" crooned on, Prince had taken to giving cardboard Doc a little private dance. Not just a

dance, more like a bump and grind session. She purposely backed up into him--it-- rather and gyrated her rear end bumper into him

in a most seductive manner. Not just into him, but into where his front GRILL was. She lip synched the lyrics as she bounced her back

end up and down against his "face". She spun about in graceful motion , quick on her wheels and changing to varied positions without

missing a beat. The way she moved was balletic, proud, true to her Show Girl roots and years of dance lessons. No dance training

taught her this. It was not choreographed. She was making it up as she went but it looked like she had practiced it to perfection.

_**Everywhere you go**_

_**and everybody**_ _**knows **_

She literally threw herself on top of the cardboard picture on one deft move, gingerly parking her front wheels over the counter by

"him". Exposing her left back axel like a human leg, she teased what would have been his cheek. Erotically she pumped herself--the

human equivallent of her crotch--against his face. She was feeling so naughty, so carefree, and obviously was having a good time.

Everyone was stunned. "Oh yeah girl--work what the automation lines gave ya." Wingo drooled playfully. Lightning and Sally both had

massive grins plastered across their faces. For a shy vehicle she sure had some surprises when alone. Snot Rod was starting to go

through the motion of sneezing, praying he wouldn't. "No Snotty-don't do it!" DJ cried but it was too late. "**_Oh...SHIT_**!!!" In one violent

jerk, Snot Rod let loose a herculean sneeze, instantly igniting his side thrusters. The massive thrust lurched him forward like a rocket

and he went bulldozing through the front door of the cafe. In an instant, a makeshift drive-thru was created, courtesy of Snot Rod. All

Prince saw was an orange blur coming at her and she dove for cover. . Then she saw them, looking with idiotic grins. She had been

caught. Next thing she saw was the back part of an orange barricuda sticking from the wall where the hapless vehicle had crashed.

She saw the others. The commotion had awakened the entire town. "Prince, meet Snot Rod. " Sally nodded with a grin in Snot Rod's

direction. "And DJ, Wingo, Boost, Mia and Tia." Lightning added cheesing hard from the racy display of watching Prince dance. They

all were grinning wide. Prince was speechless.


	11. Stealing You For a Ride

Prince's eyes followed the destruction left in the wake of the crashing car. Snot Rod had blazed an epic trail of debris from the front door of

the cafe clear across the floor to the other side. There was glass, overturned tables and destroyed wood everywhere. Still to stunned yet to

fully register what had just happened, the Lambourghini watched the scene unfold in front of her. His whole body began to convulse as he

went through the stages of readying for another sneeze. Flames were shooting from the pipes on either side with each inhale and when he

finally sneezed, they spewed out with such intensity that he was ejected completely from the wall. This time he went flying in the opposite

direction backwards above her head before colliding rear-first into wall behind her. Now he was stuck in the wall with the front half of him

protruding. Going cross-eyed, he was jerking again warning signs of yet another impending sneeze. Prince decided to wisely get out of the

way. She turned around to see the Doc pulling up, roused from his slumber from the noise. She froze in her treads. "What's going on here?"

Doc asked no one in particular as Steve and Duncan rolled up alongside him, bar lights flashing.

The minute Prince saw him she flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't face him. What if someone saw her dancing and decided to tell him

about it; she could never face him again. Forgetting all about the tangerine intruder, she crouched with apprehensive eyes. "Prince? Snot

Rod? What in the world hap--?" Doc questioned. She couldn't move and she couldn't talk. Only when the rumbling of 8-foot flames shooting

from Snot Rod's third sneeze did she jolt, and in a panic, spun her wheels hard to make a run for it. Lightning watched her, intrigued. His

heart belonged to Sally to be sure, still the black car was a beauty. And strange. As if on cue the end of Madonna's song was closing with her

wailing "_Beau-ti-ful Stra-aanngerrr_." "Sorry." Snot Rod wheezed loudly unaware that the girl had already sped off. Prince made a bee line

straight to Flo's and Ramone's house, and into her garage, just as they were leaving out to see what happened; the police had called them.

They missed Prince flying silently into her garage. No one who hadn't witnessed Prince's little escapade could understand why she was so

edgy. She wasn't in any trouble. No one was. This was clearly a mishap. Those who came upon it however, could understand and

fought to contain grins. Still, as standard procedure, Steve went to speak to Prince to gather what happened. It was also standard procedure

to view the video tape. Yes, video tape. Prince wrongfully assumed because it was a 50s-style diner, there would be no surveillance,

otherwise she never would have considered such a sassy display of conduct on the job. Maybe the others wouldn't say anything. Maybe she

could beg them not to. Maybe she should just...hide. Once Flo arrived she, Ramone the officers and Sheriff reviewed the tape. With them was

Doc. As judge he was authorized to view the tape as well. Flo didn't understand why Prince panicked and left because no one was in

trouble. Flo wasn't even upset with Snot Rod. This was simply an accident. There were witnesses. Those who saw the whole thing had an

idea why Prince fled but not the six who had arrived. Reviewing the video was simply standard procedure. It was always done in law

enforcement, regardless of the reason for the crash. Flo planned to back up to where the crash happened but when she caught her

employee wiggling in the lower corner of the screen she got nosy. So did the rest of them. "What the heck is she doing?" Flo murmured. She

decided to back the tape up further and watched in surprise. Everyone had a flabbergasted look on their faces but it was nothing compared

to what Doc had. Lightning had been observing from the doorway and could see Doc's face from his angle. The best way to describe Doc's

reaction to Prince's behavior was lustful. Without knowing he was even doing so, he had begun to chew on the bottom half of his lip, his car

frame faintly moving up and down with increased breathing. It was almost like he was becoming _aroused_. Lightning grinned hard. Doc

snapped out of his voyeuristic trance to find all eyes on him. "Doc." Sheriff began in amazement. "Looks like you got a little admirer there."

He chuckled. "M-mmmmmMMMMM-MMM!!!" Flo sassily heckled "Go'head girl!" Flo was having a field day as was Ramone. The two young cop

cars struggled to maintain their civility but were having a hard time in doing so behind Doc's back. The Hornet hadn't quite caught on to the

fact that the others had seen how he had been observing the video footage. All he did was grunt a "Hn." and then turn to leave. "Hey

Doc, come talk to me for a second." Lightning wheeled up beside him. "Well welcome back kiddo." Doc was happy to see him, trying to hurry

and shake off the rising lust boiling in his body. But the red race car was a guy like him; he could see it. "How did the tour go?" "Don't change

the subject Doc. I know you too well now. You're the father I never had. I'm like your son so share with me. I saw how you were looking at

that tape. And I also saw her. Oh yeah she gave you a private dance although, my guess would be that she must have thought there was

no video camera in there. Otherwise, she wouldn't have done that.

Sally told me she was shy but from what I can tell, she's running on 250 horsepower around you." Lightning spoke with his usual wry smile.

"What are you thinking right now? Seriously Doc?" "Many things Lightning. One is lust. I want her like you wouldn't believe. The minute I saw

her. But it's not just a sexual thing son; these are serious feelings. And it's been a long time I've felt that way about a woman. Very long

time. I'm up there.." "Oh come on Doc you're not THAT old. You're just an old model! And even so you're a NICE looking old model. You're

never too old for that." Lightning started. "That's not what I mean kid. I KNOW I've got it in me still. Like my racing skills I never lost _that_.

But I don't know it she'd fall for an old timer like me." "Well, you'd never know until you try." McQueen told him. He broke into his famous

smile and followed it up with his trademark wink. Steve had gone to fetch Prince and escort her back to the damaged cafe. Prince babbled

apology after apology, fearful that she might be fired or something but Flo's taunting quickly reassured her otherwise. Flo had insurance; the

cafe could be repaired. She wanted to know what brought on the little striptease episode she saw on the tape. Prince was petrified to know

that her act of the ages was immortalized on video. "Girl don't be embarrassed, it was CUTE. You was working it honey!" "Like they say, it's

the quiet ones you gotta watch out for." DJ added in eyeballing Prince. Prince indeed was quiet, shy and seemingly reserved. She was all

three. Every now then she resorted to, okay having some inappropriate fun when she thought she was alone in her own world. She hadn't

counted on a surveillance being installed in a place like this. Despite the praises, right now she wanted to slink into a ditch and hide. Later

that night, Flo and Prince stayed up a while longer with Flo recalling embarrassing stories of what she did to get Ramone's attention. She

had Prince laughing hard. "Like I said honey. Things happen. I can tell you this; I think ol Doc liked what he saw." "You're very easy to talk to

Flo. Thank you. and good night." She bid her host and headed to her garage. The next morning: Prince rolled out of the garage with a

stretch and stopped. She gasped. "Good morning Prince. Flo I'm stealing your employee for a little while. I'm taking her for a little drive. Doc

called out to Flo who was already in the yard and giving Prince an encouraging look. She cracked a grin. "There's no work for you today

honey; I'm giving you the day off!" "That is, if the young lady wouldn't mind going for a drive with me." Prince turned back into Doc's

direction. Since learning that Doc had seen her performance, she was not sure if she could face him. Her heart raced. He was standing there

with that infectious crooked smile of his. He winked an eye at her--a trait he had copied from none other than Lightning McQueen.

"Um..sure." the timid female accepted. She failed to notice that he had his old racing tires on.


	12. French Kiss

As if she was scared of him, she hesitantly followed. He pause for her to catch up and when she did, he fixed his eyes on her in a side stare. She was so on edge and shy around him and he

couldn't help but secretly adore her for that. Doc was always one to look people directly in the eyes when he spoke to them and expected to be looked back at when they addressed him. He

would have to break her out of this habit. Prince wanted to say something but quickly looked away instead as if she was too ashamed to face him. He could tell she was very uncomfortable

around him now. He decided to just address the issue. "If you think I'm offended by what I saw, the answer is no." She stiffened, hoping this would not come about. "I'm the town judge, as

part of law enforcement here it's inevitable that I'd see the tape little lady. I take it you didn't know the place had video cameras. Otherwise," Doc smiled. "I'm sure you would have thought

better of it." Prince blushed. "No, I didn't know. I...made the assumption that because it was an old diner that it wouldn't have cameras. I don't mean old-old; I mean 1950s style old." she

stammered to correct herself not trying to imply anything about Doc's make and model. "N-not that there's anything wrong with 50s things. I mean-I wasn't expecting the place-" "I know

what you mean, no offense taken." Doc chuckled. His eyes glistened assuringly. "We may be a little town, a very old one at that. But we do like technology too, you know. Any town that

wants to survive must change with the times. " "..Right." Prince agreed sounding more like an attempt to appease what she thought still was an offense to the venerable car. She didn't have

a lot of confidence. He'd have to break her out of that, too. "I was quite flattered by what I saw. Watching you dance made me feel like a young wheel again. You've got some...fly moves."

Prince couldn't help it; she burst out laughing. It was hard to picture such a noble vehicle of his status using such hip hop terminology. She was doing exactly what Doc wanted her to; he

wanted to see that smile. "That is the term alot of these young ones use nowadays if I'm correct." Doc teased. "Or do they use other words now." "Um, 'fly' is so 1980s, Sir.

Terms they use now I can't even repeat." Prince said quietly, bashfully hanging her head down. Doc wasn't so dense either. He knew many of those terms, all meant to be flattering in a very

dirty way. He wasn't about to use those terms to describe what he was feeling. She was a lady worthy of respect. And no gentleman would use such language, unless the mood was right. He

still had a reputation to protect! "I got you to smile. I'm glad. You always look so glum around me. When you're with me you're going to have to loosen up a bit little lady. You're not afraid of

me are you?" "Erm, no. I," she tried to find the right words. He intimidated her. Every time he looked at her like that, it was intimidating. She simply was not used to looking people in the

eyes. Period. She spent her whole existence looking down at her tires when others spoke to her. No self esteem whatsoever. "Why don't you put on some music for us. Whatever you want.

Music always adds fun to the adventure when you're driving." Doc woke her from her contemplation. Like every car she had her own collection of choice music and with today's hi-tech world

cars were fixed where one vehicle could stream the music as it played from his/her interior into the body of another. "Anything?" she questioned. "Anything you like. I'm versatile. I'll listen to

just about anything." Doc wasn't kidding either. He wasn't as square as he looked. He didn't seem like it but he appreciated today's music as much as that of his time: the 50s and 60s. Some

of the junk out there he'd hardly classify as music but there was a lot of it he did like. In the 50s and 60s the music he loved as a late teenager and young adult was branded by many in his

parents' generation as junk. A teenage drag racing hornet competing against grown up cars. At 18 he won his first Piston Cup. That was 1951. He became the youngest car ever to win. His

trademark was to blast music from inside his interior as he sped around the track. Especially Righteous Brothers. By '53 and two Cups later he still blared music when he raced. In the 60s

when he was rebuilding his life as a law student and doctor he was all into the hippie scene like Fillmore. 35 years old digging the cool music of the cultural movement age.

THAT was music but to his elders it was junk. He could care less if Prince played junk; he just wanted some music. He wanted to get the feel of this girl, see what made her tick. He

immediately recognized the track as a "house" track. Though he couldn't recall the title he had heard the song being played at the Axle one night when he drove past it after a midnight outing

with Sheriff. The vintage cop car couldn't stand it. According to him he saw why it was called "house", in his words, it sounded like they were building a house. That had Doc laughing. Prince

abruptly stopped the music undecided. After a few seconds she found a song she was especially fond of. One he did recognize as by a group called **I5**. It was **"Distracted**". The moment Doc

heard it it fit her to perfection. He actually liked this song. He payed close attention to its lyrics.

_**All the time**__**It`s always on my mind**__**All the time**__**It`s always on my mind**_

_**The things that are runnin**__**Through this young girl's head**__**When I get up in the morning**__**When I'm goin' to bed**__**When I'm drivin' in my car**__**When I'm talkin' on my cell**__**Crammin` for a final**__**When I'm watchin TRL**_

_**I think about love**__**I get distracted**__**When I think about**__**Hookin up with you**__**It gets all my concentration**_

_**But ooh, ooh**__**I go preoccupied**__**You got me in a daze**__**I get distracted**_

_**When I'm standin in a**__**Line at the ATM**__**When I'm stirrin my sugar**__**In my caf? mocha blend**__**When the radio is playin'**__**A song like this**__**I float away suddenly**__**Dreamin of your kiss..**_

_Oh, so she dreams of kissing me. _Doc mused.

The sleek car slowed down once she realized she was going too fast, she thought, for him. But as she did she was hit by a blast of wind as Doc blew past her; she suspected he had to be going

at least 80 mph. "What?" she asked herself. Did he want to race her? She didn't know he could move so fast! Well this was a long stretch of highway that was seldom used. It was highly

unlikely it was being used by traffic. Doc knew this street; it was the one that went out to the tractor field. The asphalt was smooth and perfect for working an engine as powerful as his. And

hers Prince fed into the challenge. After all she was one of the fastest cars alive. Lambourghinis were not known for being "slow". 80 miles per hour was cruising to them! Her engine barely

got up at 80. There was alot about Doc she didn't know of, but if he wanted a race then she was going to give it to him. The music engulfed him as he deliberately let her pass him, watching

with a wry grin. Only a select few in town knew how fast Doc could really go; his top speed was nearly 140 mp. By a Lambourghini's standards that was laughable as Lambourghini speeds

reached nearly 300. 140 miles _was_ fast, even for such a sports car whose engine barely warmed at 140. On a race track the average racing speed was around one-hundred miles or so and

most race cars could top out at around 150. Because race tracks curved understandably it was unwise for anyone to fly around such a bend at such a high rate of speed. Not even

Lambourghinis on open stretches of road were stupid enough to hit a corner going more than sixty, if even that. NO car was that foolish. Prince was amazed that the Hornet was able to keep

up with her. Even after Doc left racing he kept the massive chrome engine he was _born_ with under his hood, and with his regular exercise he kept himself in shape. He was in peak condition,

his engine block screaming to unleash hell at the road. Still he knew he couldn't keep up with Prince: speed-wise she had the advantage. And with her aerodynamic build she seemed to glide

down the road, rather than speed. She smirked triumphantly as she flew past, her speedometer telling her 110 mph. She'd love to see Doc beat that. When he caught up at the same speed

she accelerated, and he did so in turn. Soon both were pushing well near 120 mph. This was nothing for Prince, nor was it for Doc-but she didn't know that. She woefully assumed he was

tiring out. He never appeared tired but he didn't appear too eager to try to keep up with her. Because he knew he couldn't. She playfully taunted him, slowing down so he could catch up

andthen deliberately take off leaving him to lag behind. She was amazed Doc could go as fast as he could. After all, 120 miles an hour was hardly "slow" when the legal speed limit was 55!

120 miles was very fast, even for a sports car like her. When she thought she was ahead, she would turn to find Doc right next to her.

Baffled she'd speed up again. She was doing exactly what Doc wanted her to.

_**I know it's crazy**__**Livin' in this fantasy**__**But I don't know how to**__**Break this spell**__**You put on me**__**Tryin' to stay focussed**__**On the things**__**I'm supposed to do**__**But before I know it**__**My attention's back on you**_

_**I think about love**__**I get distracted**__**When I think about**__**Hookin' up with you**__**It gets all my concentration**_

_**But ooh, ooh**__**I go preoccupied**__**You got me in a daze**__**I get distracted, yeah**_

_**Disconnected, yeah**__**Distracted, yeah**__**(Can't help myself)**__**You got me in a daze**_

_**I know it's crazy**__**Livin' in this fantasy**__**But I don't know how to**__**Break this spell**__**You put on me**__**Tryin' to stay focussed**__**On the things**__**I'm supposed to do**__**But before I know it**__**My attention's back on you**_

_**I think about love**__**I get distracted**__**When I think about**__**Hookin' up with you**__**It gets all my concentration**_

_**But ooh, ooh**__**I go preoccupied**__**You got me in a daze**__**(Come on, baby)**__**I get distracted, yeah**__**Disconnected, yeah**__**(It's what I do,**__**I think about you)**__**Distracted, yeah**__**(Can't help myself)**__**Disconnected, yeah...**_

Yes she was distracted because she couldn't seem to keep up.

Doc had one trick up his sleeve-ENDURANCE. Lambourghinis were the fastest things around, but they didn't _LAST_. They were like sprinter cars, if there was such a thing. They could go at

breakneck speeds for short bursts of time. In other words, they had to slow down very quickly or risked burning their engines out and an unpleasant trip to the mechanic. Doc could see why

Lambourghinis didn't make good racing cars. They could only maintain their top speeds for several minutes at most and then they had to cool down whether they wanted to or not. Majestic

pieces of work they were but in reality, they were the cheetahs of the auto world. Doc on the other hand had what all racers naturally possessed: great stamina. It took alot to wear a racer

down. Not only did Doc have speed but he could drive for _hours_ on end at a high rate of speed if he so chose. To do 200 plus laps one had to.

_**I think about love**__**I get distracted**__**When I think about**__**Hookin' up with you**__**It gets all my concentration**_

_**But ooh, ooh**__**I go preoccupied**__**(Preoccupied)**__**You got me in a daze**__**(In daze)**__**I get distracted, yeah**__**Disconnected, yeah**__**I get distracted**__**Disconnected, yeah**__**(It's what I do,**__**I think about you)**__**I get distracted...**_

The song faded elegantly to the closing of a chiming piano. Winded, Prince slowed to fifty, then thirty, then finally to a 2-mile crawl. Barely exhausted Doc pulled in front of her and she faded

the music out. "You're fast." she admitted between breaths. "So are you." Doc retorted. Prince shut her eyes, slowing her breathing. She jerked when she felt something supple and wet on

her lips. Doc's face was so close that she could just make out his closed windshields. His mouth was touching hers. It was a slow, calculated move on his part holding his mouth to hers. She

didn't know how to react. She had never been kissed before and was not quite sure of what to do. Doc pressed harder against hers, then she felt his tongue gently stroking against her lips,

requesting entry into her mouth. She parted her lips more out of surprise than permission and stiffened as she felt his tongue gently penetrate the interior of her oral cavity. It was hot, moist

probing her like a curious child peeking out of a fortress of playground tires. Everything within her was fluttering in a maelstrom of sensations. She could feel his appendage reaching out to

hers and he could feel her retracting it back. Gently, he broke off the kiss, staring into her eyes with hunger. He could sense she was quite new at this and found this to be a surprise,

considering how lavaciously she danced on top of his paper cardboard doppleganger. She wasn't faking it: she really didn't know what she was doing! It never showed but Doc was amused.

"You've never been kissed before have you?" He muttered. "No." She was paralyzed by his eyes. He cupped the left side of her face. "It's a shame. Maybe other cars thought you were just too

beautiful to be kissed. I want to kiss you. Let me show you.."Doc muttered on bringing his face closer. He noted her hesitation. This was a new experience to her. "It's supposed to be wet and

slimy. Our tongues are supposed to be gross. It's supposed to be yucky. A fun 'gross'. Deep kissing is supposed to be dirty if it's done right. I like to refer to it as a...tongue exercise." Doc

muttered so sensuously near her face. It was so strange to hear him talking like this. He made nasty things sound so erotic.

He inched nearer until their lips touched again. He pressed into the side of her face to gently force her mouth open as he gained access. His tongue once again deeply diving in on a quest to

find its mate. He found it and drew her tongue into a sensual tangle with his. It was all Prince could do to keep from collapsing as she bent into him. "Would you, Prince go out on a date with

me?" Doc's voice breathed out solemnly as he slowly pulled away,watching her still reeling from a classic French kiss.

Her answer was a whispered "Yes."


	13. Personal Question & Meet Frank

**This may be strange but when I use the term "broken in" it's equivalent to being deflowered. A virginity thing. And be forewarned: in future chapters some female issues will come up. Let's just say that where the oil filter is normally under a car's hood? Well for the boys it is. For my female cars I'm putting the oil filter and tank (whatever its called; I'm no mechanic) that holds oil near the back between their rear wheels. If any of you know what this tank thing is please let me know.**

Doc was studying her features. Ever intimidated by him, she began looking down at the ground but he put a front tire under her chin and lifted her head up, forcing her to look at him. "You should never

look down all the time. You're too attractive to hide that face from the world." Her hood and cheeks flushed several shades of gray indicating she was blushing. Doc was relishing in it. She lived a

seemingly carefree life before she arrived to Radiator Springs yet she was so innocent. So withdrawn. Had never even been kissed. It may not be the appropriate thing to ask but he just had to know. "Are

you attracted to the same sex as well?" Prince gaped at him in shock. She was somewhat offended but more tickled than anything else. Clearly it bothered him to ask such a personal question. _What am I_

_ thinking, asking her this? Where are your manners, Hudson_? But then again, she had been confronted with this subject often, since she never threw herself at cars the way many females in her old

profession did. Likewise, most show girls didn't have to throw themselves out there; guys naturally gravitated toward show girl cars. Like it was the ultimate prize to have a Vegas performer hanging on

your side view mirror. High rollers automatically sought them out and those selected jumped eagerly into their arms. Prince tried to be different. She refused to be "rode around" between casino players

and would not resign to being anyone's trophy girl. Because she wouldn't give it up so easily, rumors began to run that either something was physically wrong with her. Or that she was a "lezzie", that

was, into girls. Or better yet a swinger. That she went both ways although no one ever seen her with a guy. She had absolutely nothing against those who chose such a lifestyle. Whatever rocked one's

back seat, if it didn't affect her she didn't care. She considered herself straight' just not loose. The odds of it were slim but she was waiting for someone who respected her for her, and not because of her

career or model to give it up to. As she got older, she began to give up on it altogether, believing maybe her standards were too high. And, the older she got, the more apprehensive she became; she

heard the first few times were rather painful. Maybe something was wrong with her. All she was asking for was a boy to love her for being a good-natured person, and not because she made good

money, wore skimpy attire at work and was a flashy Lambo. Maybe she was stupid for believing this in that kind of world. Men were always coming at her with one thing in mind; a bang shift. And she

didn't go there with women; it just wasn't her preference. Then came another rumor which turned out to be true; she had never done it at all. Because, this rumor went she was rigid, that was, scared.

She wasn't surprised by Doc's question. "No, I'm not." She blushed again. "Please don't take offense to it Prince. But It's just hard to picture something like you new at this." Doc put in. "No offense

taken. I get asked that frequently." She relaxed, now finding it rather amusing. "I'm not implying that you are one; I just find it very unusual that one such as yourself has never been kissed." Doc went

on absent-mindedly. If she never even done it then that had to mean...his eyes widened. "Are you also a virg-?" he stopped himself, appalled for even bringing it up. The level of embarrassed

sheepishness Prince felt was priceless. Doc didn't know what had possessed him to even ask that. It was none of his business if she was one or not. The last thing he wanted to come off as was an old

horny elder fantasizing about getting it on with a young piece of steel half his age. It wasn't just the young male rising out of him again after all those years. He really was falling for this girl. Though he

didn't care if she was chaste or not, secretly he hoped she was because it would be that much more special to him-and her-once it really did happen. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being

unbroken. Too bad more ladies couldn't be like her in Doc's view. But, becoming the "first to pop her stick shift" would be a real dream come true. He hadn't done it in decades but never lost his

performance. But to be able to show her all the tricks? He shook his head again, annoyed for drifting into such erotic thoughts about her yet again. Part of Prince wanted to creep under one of the grazing

tractors and wither away. Yes, she had yet to be broken in. The other part of her was tickled by Doc's stunned expression as he caught himself. Being around her was turning him into a

pervert. And he liked it. He didn't know it but secretly she did too. Still: "It's not like me to ask these things. I don't know what's gotten over me. Please believe me when I tell you this is not how I

normally am." "I believe you Sir. " "And my name's Hudson. You don't have to call me Doc. And I really despise 'Sir'. " he shot her a grin. "Hudson." Prince repeated him in a sweet unintentional purr.

A throaty sound that secretly sent Doc insane.

Just the way she said it was rousing and she didn't even know how she was saying held still as he watched the huge goliath tractor slowly lumber out towards them. He didn't seem agitated in the least,

more like curious. The large combine was not a stupid nut bolt like some thought he was and he had long determined Doc Hudson to be one of the friendlier visitors to his guarded tractors. "Don't worry.

He won't hurt you. He's only mean to those that are mean to his tractors." Doc told her. The Lambourghini had initially raised her wing-like doors up in alarm but only momentarily. She was just startled,

that's all. Her doors began to drift back down into place and Frank let out what sounded like a pitiful moan. Prince paused in bringing her doors down and he perked up, coming closer. It was as if he was

infatuated with her doors. He was. "I think he admires your doors." Doc told her. She tested his theory by lifting her doors up again which illicited another burst of bellowing excitement from the combine.

Each time she did it he moved like he was imitating the movements with the double smokestacks on sides of his head. It was really cute. "Meet Frank. That's his name." Doc introduced them. "Frank,

this here is Prince and you like her don't you. Yeah, you're a good tractor." Prince giggled when Frank came closer to sniff her then proceeded to lick the side of her door, earning a squeal. She was

very ticklish. "Hey! You can't have her. Go find your own woman." Doc feigned jealousy and teased him. Prince chuckled. "We better head on back, it'll be gettin dark soon." Doc pulled out. "Nice to meet

you Frank." Prince told the combine who looked a little sad that she was departing. He let out a lonely moan. She turned to face him. "Don't worry Frank, I'll come and visit you."


	14. Past Coming To Haunt Me

"Doc." Prince began the conversation on the drive back. "Hudson." the car corrected her. "Hudson," she carried on. "I didn't know you could go so fast." He could tell by

the tone in her voice that the now-chastened Lambourghini never expected to be upstaged by something like him. Then again she had never raced before either. But

she also enjoyed his surprise win. "Well, for one thing I have racing tires on, " he showed off his tires. She just now noticed them and was awestruck. " and I used to be

a race car." he told her. "Really?" this revelation astonished her. "You mean as in professional race car?" "You could say that." "Wow. That explains it Si--Hudson. you

certainly never lost it. If you raced like that you must have been quite spectacular." she had started to loosen up around him. "Well, according to the masses apparently I

was. I let the crowd judge me. Even when I didn't win they gave me standing ovations. Flashed their headlights at me and everything."Doc recanted humbly. Everyone

had a sob story. Might as well tell his. Unlike the old McQueen or Chick he was neither arrogant nor mistreated his pit crew. He never forgot how the capacity-packed

stands always rose up and cheered loudest for _him_, even if he was the last to pass the checkered flag. 100,000 race spectators worshipped him.

Regardless of who they wanted to win, they never failed to let Hudson know how much they idolized him. He won the most races in a single year ever. 27 in fact. And he

still held that record to this day, which he was surprised to learn. Long before Lightning's unexpected visit to Radiator Springs Doc had quit watching car racing decades

earlier. He had become so bitter about the sport dumping him that he swore off racing forever. He changed the channel whenever racing came up so by the time he

relocated to Radiator Springs in the late 60s he completely lost track of competitors and all. He had shut himself off from the world; that included the sport he

once loved. He had a new identity, a new life. No one in Radiator Springs knew who he was because of his blue paint. That was how he liked it. And then that young

punk 'McQueen', or whatever the fuck his name was had to turn up and stick his nosy radiator in _his_ garage. And found out "Doc"'s secret. Of all the places he had to try

to flee the police from he just HAD to do it in Radiator Springs and discover who Doc really was. The minute Doc saw him in court resentment rose in him because the car

that nearly killed him was red. It was an accident but that wasn't had Doc so worked up. It was the fact that that car never apologized to him for it. Never came by the

hospital to see how Doc was. He had the audacity to tell the press maybe it was his time to hang it up since he obviously couldn't handle the road anymore. If he let a

rookie wreck him off then maybe it was a sign for him to lay low and 'let somebody else win for a change'. Doc couldn't help it if he was good. He couldn't explain why he

won 3 Cups in a row; he just DID.

Just like that those who controlled the racing world dumped Hudson and went for this conceited loud mouth. Because he was good. He really was. At first Lightning

McQueen reminded Doc so much of that bastard. But then he started to grow fond of McQueen and believed it would be a good chance to share some of his racing

knowledge with the young rookie. Pass his tricks on. But that didn't go well in the beginning. Incensed at losing to an old clunk, McQueen was hellbent on making that

turn and wasn't hearing anything Doc had to say. He spun off in a malicious sneer just like the malicious sneer the 1954 racer threw at Doc as he lay in a crumpled heap

on the side of the field. "I never intended for you to wreck but I'm not apologizing either. If you die you die. One less shadow for me to worry about. At least you're out

of my way now, 'HORNET.' he was so indifferent, just like McQueen, turned up his lip with an annoyed stare, teeth bared and drove off. Everyone there thought the rival

was wishing Doc well as he was towed off to the hospital. Hudson had always tried to play fair and square. He believed kindness was the right thing to do. He raced for the

love of it. Even when he lost he wore a huge smile because he did something he loved. For him it wasn't about winning, it was about feeling the wind on his body. And he

lived for his fans. It was his fans who made him what he was. Unlike many of the others he was gracious, kind and generous with a personality that made everyone

outside the sport want to be around him. And in the end it was his kindness that did him in. The very management that sponsored him looked at him when he recovered

and told him "you've been replaced. We don't need you now."

He should have seen it coming when none of them came to visit him during his recovery. As long as he could race he was their man. The minute he couldn't he found out

just how expendable he was. In those days racing was about business, not sportsmanship. Good-natured Dinoco didn't exist back then to emphasize the importance of

teamwork. Love of the game over money and image. Doc took comfort in one thing though; his fans still loved him. They piled cards and flowers by his room. They didn't

turn on him but many did wonder if he would return. He just wrecked then dropped out of public view. They never got the real scoop, just fed into the bullshit the media

told--he "quit". He had his ex-sponsors to thank for that lie. He became so despondent that he wanted to die. So one night he waited right until the train approached. To

ensure the train would have no time to warn him or slow down when it was about 100 feet away he drove onto the tracks and waited. The year was 1958.

Then came Lightning, a show-off just like THAT son-of-a-bitch that caused his accident. It told the Doc that today's rookies, even some seasoned pros were still like they

were in the 50s, crude, determined to win by any means needed. Lightning was rude, very insensitive until he discovered Doc's true identity. The kid suddenly turned into

a gnat; he just wouldn't go away. Hounded him about his tricks. Like he didn't try to show him one. Doc was still smarting from McQueen's know-it-all attitude toward

him when he tried to teach the kid about left turns, then the fucker mouthed off loudly about him still holding the record for the highest wins. _Right, just go on and tell_

_everybody within earshot about me._ was all Doc could think as he eyed the little flaming red-painted bastard down. He wished McQueen would just shut up and leave him

alone.

Then the other townsfolk laughing--that didn't really bother Doc that much. Most of them, like Doc didn't think highly of McQueen either so they laughed it off much to

Doc's relief. But the little red race car came to grow on them. And now Doc considered Lightning McQueen to be the son he never had. McQueen had changed and

changed Doc in the process. Prince was silent as she heard his life story being told. She didn't know what to say. He didn't elaborate about what happened on the train

tracks and she didn't press him. But she knew the result of that had to have been ugly. It was very clear he was not yet ready to talk about that yet. "Oh, Doc. I'm so

sorry. I'm so sorry you were turned on like that." "Don't be. I'm not. I'm happier now than I ever was racing. I'll just say this: parking on that railroad track had

disastrous consequences for me but had I not parked on that track in 1958 I wouldn't be standing here with you. I'd be somewhere else with another woman, but it

wouldn't be you." It was a macabre revelation but Prince understood what he meant as she absorbed his words. They pulled up into town. "Does Saturday night sound

good for a date?" Doc asked.


	15. Thoughts of an Old Friend

**Warning: This story has officially been bumped up to an M rating because things are gonna start to get real deep. Some sexual references.  
Now, happy reading!**

"Yes. It sounds wonderful." He saw how sincere she was. She was still repeatedly swallowing some of his saliva and she seemed to be forcing it down. It didn't taste

offensive. It just felt weird to her to have someone else's spit in her mouth. It felt alien to her but it felt so great. She helplessly giggled. "I'm sorry I'm swallowing

so much, Doc. Forgive me but this is going to take some getting used to." He was just grinning at her. "So that's what a French Kiss is." Her insides were still

shuddering from it. She discreetly held a front tire up to her mouth to gain her composure. "Remember, don't look down all the time. Look at cars when you talk to

'em." Doc reminded lifting her face up again. "And don't apologize so much." The serious look on his face faded her smile away. She nodded. He backed up,

eyeballing her before turning to head off. Prince hid her excitement well but inside she wanted to burst. A real date with the Doc. She hadn't gone on a date in

nearly ten years and the last one ended in disaster when it turned out that the Nissan she went with was taken. His girlfriend showed up and all hell broke loose

from there. Prince had no idea the guy was in a relationship. All she knew was she was having a quiet moment in a movie with the truck and next thing an angry

honda came out of nowhere and whacked him on the head with a bag Rusty Crisps. She dumped his drink on him. Of course he tried to sweet talk his way out of it.

He gave perhaps the lamest excuse Prince had ever heard; that he was sleepdriving and didn't even know he was parked in a movie theater wide awake until his

girlfriend hit him. Prince just left the two to have at it. It was their mess. Not at all by choice she had become a part of that mess and had no desire to stick around

and help clean it up. After that she just kept to herself. She didn't want to come off as desperate because she truly, truly wasn't. There was no questioning herself

that her feelings for Doc were strong. But she was the type who kept what she felt hidden from whomever she had feelings for. After witnessing what happened to

others who made theirs known, she learned quickly that it was best to keep those feelings to herself. She saw dance mates fall for a "gentleman's" charm, only to

be kicked to the curve once said gent got what he wanted. In one case there was a show girl who thought if she let every ride in her lover's crew gun it she'd be

accepted. Prince tried to talk her out of it but her friend wasn't having it. Determined to be accepted by this dog on wheels her roommate, a really nice corvette

stingray made a dreadful choice. She saw it as her ticket into a hip hop video and possibly stardom. She let everybody this Hummer knew "get at her". The

Hummer was a big time rap artist that talked Prince's friend into a "train". Naive as Prince was, she had no idea what that really meant until a bartender explained

it to her. Prince's attempt to talk some sense into her roommate resulted in a bitter argument and the corvette accusing Prince of being jealous because the

Hummer wanted her instead. It was hardly the case. Prince considered her a friend and was concerned. She didn't have to stoop so low to get attention. The

corvette wasn't having it. She told Prince she needed to get off if and "give it up before it dried up". This was her chance to become a star, to be seen with a rapper.

A rapper she could make love her. She found out the hard way what a cut-throat world the music industry was. Not only did she end up not being the Hummer's

main ho, but she got passed around to his whole entourage of "boyz" in one night. The Hummer got it, and then watched on as the rest of his "dogz" got it.

They had put something in her anti-freeze the gossip went, that spaced her out but everyone said she couldn't yell rape because she did agree to it. Ten cars got

her in one night and all she had to show for it was a tow ride home. She was so sore she could barely drive herself and had to call for assistance that she paid for.

The only other thing that came of it was a ruined reputation. Not even a rap video. Her new nickname became "Cumvette". Such a degrading name and it showed.

She would try to hide her face when she came in backstage to get ready, unable to ignore the whispers and disgusted stares. The Hummer and his friends bragged

about it and completely ignored her in public. Prince tried to offer what support she could but the once-vibrant 'vette had changed. In a matter of months she

turned to drug-laced gas, came in drunk and eventually lost her job behind it. Prince lost track of her but found out later that her ex-roommate had turned to illegal

activity, selling herself for money and got picked up. She let herself go down the drain over a man who played her like a card. Prince was smart enough to see the

ugly side of being a show girl. It was a glamorous but if one let it yes, it could become a nightmare. Prince never fell for the negative side of it, but because she

chose to drive the straight and narrow she was branded as some kind of oddity. She lived to dance, she loved it. It was fun, she was good at it and it kept her in

shape. But she lived by a simple code: get to work, punch in, get dressed, perform your shows, punch out and go home. Don't get caught up in the bad side of the

business. She lived by that code and did fine. There were some in the business that tried to get her to live by what she viewed to be a bad code. She never fell for it

and was branded a bitch because of it. Doc certainly was not like this. There were plenty of vehicles in her age group who were very mature and didn't play games

either, but she seemed to pull at Doc. It was evident that he wanted her, her and not just because she was a high-maintenance glitzy performer. Would he have

kissed her like that if he wasn't serious? She was pulled out of her reminiscing by the sound of Flo's boisterous voice. "SO HOW DID IT GO? YOU'RE CERTAINLY

SMILING ALOT MORE. SO DID YOU HAVE FUN? C'MON GIRL TELL ME!" Prince pulled backwards into a circle to look at her. "It was very enjoyable. We went out to the

tractor pasture." "TRACTOR PASTURE?!!!" Flo demanded indignantly. "THAT'S WHAT HE CALL GOING FOR A DRIVE??? HE'S MORE COUNTRY THAN I THOUGHT I

HOPE THAT'S NOT HIS IDEA OF BEING ROMANTIC." "Oh, it was wonderful Flo. Trust me on it." Prince sighed somewhat dreamily as she gazed back in the direction of

Doc's garage. "I'm going on a date with him this Saturday."


	16. Changes

"That's IT Snot Rod; you need to do something with that thing. You're too much trouble with it on your hood and you know it." Mia ranted. "I know

you like it where it is but, like, you cause way too much damage with it! Like, just get it moved to the back or something!" Many others felt her

ire. While she adored Snot Rod the way he was, she and everyone else knew that the monster he called an engine that sat on his hood was

causing him too many problems. Never mind that it gave him the boost needed to sustain the speed to keep up with his friends. It was an engine;

it belonged inside of him and not sitting on top of him like an eye sore. Actually an eye sore to everyone else because she did like it. If it being on

the outside was such an issue she would not have hooked up with him in the first place. Looks didn't matter to her at least not anymore.

Nonetheless she sometimes wondered how he'd look without that goliath hardware sitting on his face. What his eyes really looked like. It was

very hard to look into them because of that...thing. He always either went cock-eyed or cross-eyed from having to look around it. It was no joke;

one eye went to the right and one went to the left. How he managed to drive looking in two different directions, let alone race was anybody's

guess. For once she'd love to see his face when they talked. And forget about kissing.

He let loose one every time he sneezed. And the sneezing! Like doctors before him, Doc had long suspected that the super charger's placement

on Snot's hood was the primary cause for his chronic fits. Pollen and dirt got trapped in the vents and aggravated his systems. All he had to do,

Doc told him, like every physician before him, was reposition the contraption elsewhere on him, preferably under his hood where it belonged. Snot

reluctantly gave in, but he wasn't being totally truthful as to why he put the huge engine on his hood in the first place. He claimed he thought it

made him look good. The real reason was that it eliminated his speech problem.

Before he got his charger installed, he had a severe stuttering problem, a secret he hid even from Wingo, Boost, and DJ. The way he was now

was how they met him several years ago. According to doctors nothing much could be done about it. He just had to live with it. Having his drag

racing gear mounted on his hood was a decorative feature for him because he wanted to stand out. The auto body mechanics looked at

him like he was crazy but didn't argue. It was a strange idea but, he had the money to pay for it and he was the customer. The customer was

always right. He unwittingly realized that it cured his stuttering because the pipes and wires that ran from it connected with internal cables that

controlled his vocal functions. But it created the new problem of endless allergies, hence, sneezing. All of the destruction he caused at Flo's was

the final straw for Mia. She and her sister had volunteered to help Flo clean the diner up and after witnessing first-hand the demolished interior

she had had enough. She wanted the engine either gone or mounted elsewhere. After great effort, Snot Rod gave in. Anything for the little cutie

he loved. If she told him to dive into wet cement head-first he would do it. Ramone and Boost agreed to work on Snot Rod. Boost, like Ramone

knew alot about auto body work and he also had a mechanic degree. He often worked on his other 3 pals when they needed something done

and even he told Snot Rod that his charger was the likely source of his sneezing. One did not have to be on battery acid to see that the whopper

of an engine sitting between his eyes was causing all of his misery. It would take Boost and Ramone several hours to get the super charger off,

reinstall it elsewhere and then ding out the hood where it was, repaint him up. Everyone was quite eager to see the new Snot Rod. But according

to Ramone and Boost, it would take a good part of the day. They may have to wait until the following day.

Flo and Prince had arrived to the cafe to help out Sally and the twins. Wingo was also helping to clean up. Quiet Red did his part in using

his high-powered hose to rinse off biodegradable debris around the side walks and partitions. Lightning McQueen slept in since he arrived so late

but Sally was up and bustling about, carting out bags of trash from the diner. Guido also proved helpful with his forklift arms and he sang about

Prince as he darted about. "That's Guido, Luigi's little helper. And just so you'll know, he's singing about you. He and Luigi are very fond of Italian

cars." "But ethnically I'm not Italian." Prince blushed. "It doesn't matter. "You're an Italian design. That's good enough." Sally chuckled. She was

fluent in the language and interpreted for Guido as he scurried, arms waving joyously. "_Ciao bella straniero! Tenere il mento di sapere che stai _

_speciale!_" His voice was musical and classically romantic Italian. Prince was moved by it. "He says Hello beautiful stranger and to keep your chin

up. Know you are special." Prince was genuinely touched. "Thank you, Guido." she said in that ever so pleasant voice of hers. Doc rolled up out of

view where she couldn't see him. The urge he had in him was maddening and it took everything he had not to roar over there and violate her.

That blue-black skin. How it glistened in the sun. Oh, how he wanted to glisten all over that black enamel in the heat of the moment. He shook

the thoughts off again and turned to leave. The Next Day: It was Saturday. A big day for Prince. This evening it was her date with the Doc and

she was overly anxious. Ramone and Boost had finished up on Snot Rod last night and he was re-cooperating nicely now that Doc examined him.

He was advised to take at least one day off to rest. Now Prince was next. Wingo and Boost had something special planned for her in the body

paint department. She had to be a knockout for Doc. Both of these guys were good at that. It may seem unorthodox but the two decided to go

for it anyway. they painted her back fender with a metallic dark gray, several shades lighter than the rest of her. When light hit just right it

appeared as though she was wearing a THONG. She sported 22-inch chrome rims and her lips were a deep purple to match the

hue of her eyes. A row of iridescent blue-violet lights lined her under-front. She looked hot. "Oh yeah, Doc is gonna go nuts when he sees you."

Ramone praised his and Boost's work.


	17. The Doctor's Office Pt 1 Oral Exam

For good measure they decided to add an additional mark to her. In the same shade gray as her "thong" image, they painted an

elaborate lace line stripe on both sides of her which appeared to connect to her rear tires. When the lights hit these at the

right angle, she appeared to be wearing lacy garters that ran from the end of her painted g-strings connecting to her back tires. "Yeah.

That's what I'm talkin' about." Boost nodded admiring his handiwork. "Girl, you're gonna have every car around you scoping you out I

guarantee that." Ramone told her. "You two did such a wonderful job on me. I really like this." Prince admired herself in the three-way

mirror. Ramone's shop had multiple mirrors so clients could view all angles of themselves.

Doc slightly changed plans. Instead of the agreed 7:00 P.M. time he upped it by one hour. He had a last minute addition, a surprise as

he put it. He was as antsy about this date as she was. He didn't know for certain how this extra plot he threw in was going to go but he

was going to find out. " I've only known her for a little over a month now, I hope I'm not making a mistake here. Well, I suppose I'll find

out." He muttered more to himself as he allowed DJ and Wingo to add the final touches to him. He still wasn't sure if it was a good idea

to let the two prep him for the date but was willing to give it a chance. Earlier Ramone had painted him solid black, his old racing color

from his track days. He kept his unique white walls but they were cleaned and polished up, thanks to Guido's skills. What Wingo and DJ

were doing now were adding a tattoo on him. On his upper left hood read "**I STING**." In large bold white letters. It was in elaborate

script . It was very similar to a hardened gang member having a tattoo of a "tear" marked near his left eye. Both were former gang

members with a rough drag-racing street gang on the streets of Los Angeles, and both once had "tears" painted near their eyes. It

meant that they caused a competitor to wreck out badly to the point where that car was unable to compete for the rest of the year.

A double tear on the same side meant you inadvertently or deliberately caused a fatality. It was not something to really boast about,

tears really represented the remorse the winner felt for the losing car. To have a tear earned you big street credit and caused others to

be scared of racing you, but as these two got older, tired of the negative side of street racing they soon got their tears removed.

They still were, always would be street racers, they loved living on the edge of danger, but certain markings they no longer wanted to

keep. It only reminded them of just how vicious the two got. Nonetheless, for some reason they thought Doc wearing "I STING."

would look nice. Wingo and DJ thought it would be a cool addition to Doc's rather drab black paint. After all he was a Hornet as his side

emblem read. And hornets DID sting. The real ones anyway , and from what they learned of Doc in his former life he stung the hell out of

competitors on the race track. Be it burning rubber, dirt or asphalt, what his tires kicked up stung the eyes of anyone foolish enough to

get behind him. Doc actually liked the tattoo. He used to wear his racing emblem very large in his young days, plastered on both sides

of him so compared to that, the "I STING." was very minute. His chrome grill and fender had been polished so much that the street

racers could see their colors on him. Doc's look was simple, it fit a car his age yet it was classy. "You look good Doc. We'll

see ya later at the Strip." Wingo said. "You got it kid. And thanks to both of you." Doc bid his farewell and headed out to collect his date.

_ If this goes as planned, maybe she'll get stung_. he thought wickedly. When he caught glimpse of Prince everything in him turned to

turmoil. Right then and there he had to make a decision. She cautiously pulled out of her driveway of her guest garage, trying to read

Doc's face. He just sat there staring at her as if he had something on his mind. He finally spoke. "You, look…nice." It was the way he said

it, with a huskiness and his eyes were dead fixed on her, almost like he was undressing her with them. It was making Prince uneasy—

but in a GOOD way. Because of her low design, her back half was slightly higher than her front as it was and as he went around her he

saw her curious under-wear like design. _Oh yes, a thong design_. With her rear naturally raised up, it looked like she was inviting him in

some way. She watched him curiously, intrigued by his glance. She knew the way she looked had to be having some kind of effect on

him. Certainly she was pleased by his black color. She was so used to seeing him blue that it was unusual to see him painted black. That

was it. He made his decision. Either she would like what he had in store for her or it would turn out to be the stupidest thing he had

ever done. What he was about to do, he concluded, would probably end badly if she wasn't ready for it. He would never, EVER

disrespect a female. He didn't want to come off as some kind of dirty old freak, but he had to act.

"As I said, I want to give you a night to remember. Dinner, dancing, you'll get to see the Strip which I think you'll love. But first I say we

stop by my office. I have something for you." The way he was speaking to her was that of high arousal, Prince saw it, she could feel it.

And she was ANTICIPATING it. Was it really about to happen? This was rather sudden. She never believed in leading a guy on and then

backing out at the last moment to leave him wanting. Well, she had yet to "do it". She knew if she wanted no part of this Doc would

back down. She hadn't known him that long but for some reason she trusted him. They approached the neat and up kept building that

bore his name. **H. Hudson, M.D. DOCTOR OF INTERNAL COMBUSTION**. He really needed to change the sign because he was doctor of

many areas. He was highly skilled in all aspects of complex mechanics and medicine. She followed him into his hospital-like office,

shivering in anticipation. There in a corner was a complex-looking hydraulic lift. It wasn't exactly a normal one, this one she knew well

what is was. This was the kind that only _females_ ever saw, it was only used on vehicles of the non-masculine variety. It was a double-

set of lifts, one that had a harness to strap all four wheels in place. It was then rotated backwards at an angle until the patient—that

was of the feminine gender—was nearly in a prone position on her BACK. It was then lowered gently down onto the second lift which

was lined with very soft fabric that was both stretchy and strong. This held the weight of the patient soundly. It was an uncomfortable

position to be in, upside-down on one's "back" but at the same time the soft padding made it comfortable to lie this way, even for

extended periods. The discomfort was more of a mental than physical issue, having one's undersides exposed. Any one of Prince's

gender dreaded such exams—the loathsome **internal exam**. She should have known, he was a doctor. There were female residents in

Radiator Springs. So he would naturally perform those too. They sucked but they were a necessity for any girl or lady. Wait-a-minute,

was he going to give her an INTERNAL EXAM???? At six-o-clock in the evening?? Was this some kind of game or something? His idea of

foreplay perhaps? Prince was both repulsed AND aroused at the same time. Half of her was saying "This is just crazy while the other half

simply couldn't wait to hop on the "table". If it was the kind of "exam" she was thinking she was looking forward to it.

"Get on the table. " Doc told her bluntly. It was more of a demand than a recommendation. Somewhat jolted by his tone, she did as she

was told. The bands strapped into place and the table slowly began rotating backwards until it stopped a rather 90-degree angle. This

was odd, it should have gone down much further. She was more in a leaning back position rather than lying down or sitting straight up.

It didn't matter that she couldn't see what he was doing, there were mirrors strategically placed all over the walls and ceilings so she

could get a view one way or another. This too was unheard of during a REAL girlie-checkup. He came around her front, right next to her

face. "You know, as your doctor, I prefer that my patients RELAX. I can tell you are so tense. Very unacceptable." He mumbled at her

near her side view. Under normal circumstances, during a real visit he would never dare to put on such a raunchy display. He would

have said something more along the lines of "You're very tense, just try to relax. The more you relax the easier it'll be fore you, I assure

you." Something far more professional with no hint of sexual innuendo whatsoever. But this was not a normal circumstance. He didn't

have to be professional tonight. Just as she had a little fun with him, so to speak at the café the night Snot Rod came blasting in, he

wanted to return the favor. He intended to show her he had a playful streak too. A very dominant and kinky playful streak. Prince's

heart was pounding as she tried to predict what he would do next. He was tonguing her side view, similar to the myths of humans

licking another human's ear. She twisted into it, savoring the feel. His breath was hot, fogging up her window. He was looking at her

upside down eyes as she wiggled on the lift, looking back at him. He appeared equally upside down to her because of her situation. He

could see the pleading on her face. "Please." She hitched in a barely audible beg. "Please, what?" he teased her, although his face

remained stoic and unreadable. "And second, I didn't tell you to speak yet." She abruptly silenced, taken aback by his sudden order. He

crept calculatingly over to her other side where he was on a higher perch overlooking her. She could feel him stroking her from the top

of her undercarriage all the way down to her end, where her most sensitive areas were. It was so devious, so arousing. Never taking

his eyes off of her, Doc crouched on all fours until his tires were no longer visible. He sat looking at her like a predator ready to strike.

Methodically, he solemnly looked at the space between her back tires, the areas that interested him most, and reached out to gently

stroke her oil pan. Unlike males, female vehicles always had theirs situated near the back. It was just the way theirs was. And it was

their ultimate hot spot. "Open your axles." He muttered highly aroused and she did so, shuddering under his searing touch. He studied

every inch of her gorgeous under frame. He was close enough to her where he could pull in even further with his face and…

She hitched a deep breath, once she felt that hot tongue of his come out and lave at every crevice between her back wheels. Like

kissing, getting "ate out" was a whole new experience for her. No wonder so many women made such a huge deal out of it. "Good"

hardly describe what Prince was feeling. She was so caught up in the fire that she never noticed Doc had popped the top off of her tiny

oil unit with his teeth and went straight for the prize. He literally skewered her on his tounge, stabbing his supple organ as deeply as it

would go into her in slow, cruel thrusts. All he felt for Prince, all the love he had for her since he first saw her was erupting into every

oral thrust he plunged into her interior. He gently bit wires and cables, paying special attention to the areas in and around her opening.

Doc really wanted to throw caution to the elements and devour her in a crazed fury. He wanted to pound her, literally, with his tongue

as if it was his throttling engine jack cable penetrating her instead. But he decided to go easy since this was her first time. He didn't

want to scare the girl. She was in hysterics, twisting her body about. She ground her lower half into his face like a nympho, all four of

her limbs stretching out and clawing at the air as her tires turned independently of one another. She was gasping and screaming at him

and she pinned his head between her body. He gently used his front "arms" to force her rear wheels apart, brushing them off with his

tires. To hear her wailing as she neared climax was music to him. Showing no mercy, he dove even deeper as her entire frame exploded

into one massive orgasm. A small amount of oil trickled out of her and onto his face and he ignored it, too caught up in indulging in the

taste of her to notice. Prince's body convulsed several times, with a long string of choking cries as her peak hit hard. Doc was grinning,

highly pleased that he was able to bring her so much pleasure. For the next several minutes smaller mini-climaxes hit the shivering

Prince, her windshields foggy, eyes unfocused, not even noticing that Doc had begun maneuvering the hydraulic lift back up right.

"I said you can roll off now." Doc grinned, having spoke for the same line for the fourth time to her. "Huh? Oh. Yes, of course." The

rattled black beauty shakily drove off of the medical table, Doc watching her the entire time. He had his classic crooked smile and lazy

eyed look. He moved next to her. "Well, off to dinner, shall we?" he recommended, ready to cruise out with her. Her driving was slightly

erratic. She couldn't even drive straight because her mind reeled from the sheer pleasure she felt from. Onlookers noted her trembling

back tires as she tried to pretend she was composed. She didn't just come for the first time; she came for the first time in his MOUTH.

This was going to be a date to remember. As she cruised at his side to their choice of dining, a fancy Italian place about 20 miles outside

of Radiator Springs in a small city.


	18. Inspiration

**OKAY! I WAS ABLE TO SNAG A COMPUTER AND GET ONE CHAPTER UP BUT NO FEAR: AS PROMISED ON THE 13TH OF THIS MONTH, I SHALL RETURN IN POSTING DAILY! I DON'T LET MY READERS DOWN. PLS ENJOY. **

It was a beautiful Italian diner. A quartet of lexuses and mazaratis performed with for mandolins, the elegant strumming of the classical Italian

resonating through the room. The entire establishment had a rich 17th century like look to it, a mixture of French Colonial and Italian Renaissance. It

looked like a room of a royal palace. Once escorted to their tables, Doc went up to the host with a request. Prince couldn't hear what was said, but

the host smiled and said something in Italian. He drove up to the musicians and conveyed whatevever was said, turned to Doc with a raised

windshield as if to say: "You're set." then returned to his front post. The music began, it was a gorgeous rendition of the _Righteous_ _Brothers'_ 1960s

hit "**(You're My) Soul and Inspiration**". Doc returned to his table, quite pleased with the acoustical style of one of his favorite songs. Prince had heard the song but

couldn't quite place it. "They don't know any 1950s songs, oh well. But a 60s song will do just as well. I love this song. It's still from my generation, if

you will." Doc replied. He could tell Prince was truly enjoying this instrumental version of it. "It's truly gorgeous." she looked at him with a smile. "I

don't believe it. You actually looked me in the face this time, Senora." Doc teased her, causing her to blush. "I am trying." she admitted. "Beautiful

lady, will you have this dance with me?" Doc asked her. Smiling, the Lambourghini rose slightly on her wheels and rolled out to the middle of the

small dancefloor in the center of the bistro. She was slightly restless as she and Doc were the only couple on the floor but he didn't seem at all

bothered by it. It was strange to her, how after all those years of dancing freely before huge sold-out audiences in a Las Vegas super theater that

now she felt a sort of stage fright. This was not a "stage" yet suddenly she was apprehensive. But Doc softly pressing up against her eased her tension.

He rhythmically swayed to the elegance of the mandolin tune, forcing her to sway in sync with him. He was such a passionate dancer. She shut her

eyes, trying to envision a much younger Hudson in his 30s young and handsome youth of that era, rocking slowly to such music. Even now, he was

still handsome, perhaps not young but certainly lost none of his movements. It felt so peculiar to feel so strongly for this antique automobile, a car

old enough to be her sire, if not her grandsire.

Likewise similar thoughts were goingthrough Doc's mind. Never in his long life on this earth did he ever consider the possibility of falling for a car far

younger than him, less than half his junior. A female he could easily view as his daughter/granddaughter. Robbing the cradle indeed, yet it felt so

right. It hardly felt wrong. He was still that the Lambourghini harbored any true feelings for him, due mainly because he believed he simply was too

old for her. Then again, would she have allowed him to get so graphic with her in his medical office if she felt nothing? Perhaps she was curious

over getting "ate out" and that's why she didn't object? He immediately kicked himself for thinking along those lines. She had to be feeling SOMETHING for

him to let him do what he did, what she did to his photographed likeness in Flo's cafe like she did. He hadn't missed what she believed were very inconspicuous glances

in his direction when she _thought _he wasn't looking. And she looked at him, when she thought he didn't notice in a way as if wondering what Doc felt

towards her.

Engulfed in the charm of the music, she began trembling. He could feel it. It was almost like she was purring against him, tiny vibrations resonating

against his metallic skin. "You're trembling." he noted. "I...like this. Being like this, against..near you. And, some of is has to do with what you did to

me back there." "Back there??" Doc played dumb. He knew what she meant. "Um, in your office. I've never had that..before." Doc felt emboldened

to spice the conversation up a bit. "You mean, had a model go down on you before." Him being so point blank about it caused her to blush out of

control. He was teasing her but he was also very serious--but she didn't know that. "I..yeah. " "I can assure you, beautiful lady, it's hardly over. That

was just a taste of you. I was merely tasting you." Doc spoke in her ear. _I get alot more graphic than that_. he thought. "And like the way you taste.

me, I wasn't disappointed." "I wonder what you taste like now." Prince decided to get brazen herself, but she was not kidding. Doc could tell by

at her she meant what she said. "I don't want you to feel you have to return the favor to me because of what I did, only if you want to." It was a

straight-up lie. He was a MAN. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to feel her lips on his...parts. "But we'll save that for later. For now, let's enjoy

this

moment." Doc rocked her softly, forcing a giggle. The song ended amid claps and cheers and the lead musician cheering the now aware couple in

splendid Italian. Prince and Doc had just realized that the entire place, all 100+ cars and employees had been watching them and two other

couples who joined them in mid-song.


	19. I Thought

Prince looked deep in thought as she and the Hornet returned to their table to await their dinner. "What's on

your mind." Doc disrupted her thinking with more of a soft-spoken order than a question. She wore a

lachrymose expression. "I'm ready to tell you why I tried to do what I did." Doc waited. "I'm all ears."

Because he really wanted to know what happened to this girl to make her think her life was worth

taking. Then maybe it was hypocritical of him as he once attempted suicide himself. He thought what had

happened to him was so bad that he felt he had no way out either. "Dancing was my life." She began. She

perked up momentarily. "My entire life I dreamed of either making it big in Hollywood as a starlet or be a Las

Vegas dancer. Show Girl. Since I was a child that's what I wanted to do. My parents didn't believe in that sort

of thing so I never got dance lessons like other normal little girls. I used to sneak up to a studio on the side

of town and watch ballet students practicing their moves from behind the bushes. The instructor kept the doors open so you could

see from outside. Everything they did I mimicked it. Then I would practice in my room. I kind of had to; my parents were very

strict, very religious. For me it was like being in a CAGE. They wanted me to go to "law school". Be a doctor like my mother was.

She was a doctor. and my father--a preacher. It was like I couldn't do anything right in their eyes." Anger was starting

to rise in Prince's voice as memories of her parents suffocating lifestyle paraded about in her mind. "They

wanted me to be the good Christian daughter of a preacher girl. Me to be in the choir and all of that. I had

nothing against our religion or anything. Look I do believe in The Higher Power and all of that. That's how I was

brought up. I believe in angels and all of that, but it seemed like everything I did was a sin to them. If I

listened to certain music it was a sin. If I wanted to go somewhere on a Friday night I was "sinning" because

of the stupid Sabbath crap; I couldn't go anywhere. It was go to school and come home. I wasn't allowed to

even go in the back yard and play because my father was THAT strict. He believed I ran the risk of worldly

influences if I was outside and someone happened to drive by and see me in the yard playing. That's how

strict my father was. No normal childhood life whatsoever. Couldn't go to a mall with my friends, they weren't

allowed to come over because some of them had flashy paintjobs which he considered to be sinful. It was

just insane. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt like an animal trapped in a cage. So much so that I completely

turned my back on my religion, church everything. I wanted nothing to do with church. I was so turned off by

it. I had a bad arguement with my father and I just left in the middle of the night. I was 18 then. Just left and

never looked back. I headed to Vegas where I worked in a bar for a time and I did take a few College

classes. I did keep in touch with my mom; you know how mothers are. I auditoned for a dance slot with a

show girl troupe at the Mirage and got it and spent the next almost 18 years dancing onstage before huge

sold out crowds. It was a dream come true for me. I never had professional dance lessons, I taught myself

how to dance and still they wanted me because I was good. All the glamour, all the glitz, all the diamond-

studded feathers and pearl-string outfits, curtains falling, that was my passion. Our old manager was a very

sweet guy, he practically treated us like his daughters. He passed away and the Mirage fell under new

managment. The...new owner was a sleazeball."

"Look, he was married, everyone knew he was with a grown daughter and the minute he saw me he was

after me. He wouldn't leave me alone, openly harassing me in front of my dance mates, making passes at me,

the whole nine. I tried ignoring it to no avail. I always tried to play by the rules you see. I believed that if you

treated people the way you wanted them to treat you, you'd be okay. I suppose the life of a Show Girl is

much like a racer's. You're only as good as your performance. In MY world of performance I mean on an

intimate level. Unlike men, girls are expected to perform in other ways to get ahead. Me being a great

performer onstage, coming to work like I was supposed to, clocking in for long dance rehearsals, doing what

I was paid to do wasn't enough. I wouldn't give my boss what he wanted of me. He promised me all sorts of

things if I let him have his way with me, of course. Big huge condo paid for, vacations every month anywhere

in the world, all the little perks that the other girls couldn't have."

"Plus he had movie industry connections, he could have given me my Tinsel Town shot if I gave into him. "

"But you wouldn't do it." Doc finished admiringly. "No, I wouldn't. I couldn't. The Boss was filthy rich. One of

the richest guys on the West Coast. And he was really good-looking limozouine. He

kind of had that Lightning McQueen smile going. But he was also a dog. If you want to say so, he wasn't abusive with his wife, he

seemed to treat her nice, but he liked to mess around behind her back. So I heard. I just know the moment

he took over the Mirage, it fell apart for me. I did take SOME of my parent's values to heart. One thing they

taught me was to never pursue someone else's man. I stuck to that. The Boss was married, I respected his

wife but he was like a parasite. He would make comments about certain parts of me in front of everybody.

Was always trying to get in my undercarrige. I was ready to quit and look elsewhere but it's very hard to get

a Show Girl position. There were no other positions open. Somehow he found out I was thinking about

leaving the Mirage and thus began the threats. He issued me an ultimatum: either sleep with him or his

mission in life would be to ensure I had none after Vegas. This guy was a high roller; he had cops and judges

that worked for him. How can you go up against something like that? I have no degree, I really don't know

anything else. The pay was great but it wasn't worth this. So I tried to lay low, just perform and go home.

He called me in one day and just told me point blank that since I wouldn't give him what I wanted he was

letting me go. And to not even bother trying to find work anywhere else in Las Vegas or any where on the

West Coast for that matter. He had black mailed me. Put all sorts of lies in my employee bank history. I

thought he was joking when he said I'd never work in Vegas again. I had saved up enough to pay my rent

for about two years. In that time I spent the rest looking for work. I even applied at bars, night clubs, fast

food joints --everywhere. I couldn't even get a fry cook job, okay. I go in for the interview, they look at my

name, then me, then my name again, see the Boss reference on there with other references I knew nothing

of and say "Sorry. We can't hire you." Or I was "too old". I was desperate; I was willing to take any job I could, even if it meant

scrubbing car wash lots. No one would hire me." I couldn't return home because by then Father had

disowned me. I was just on my own. I lose my apartment so I'm on the streets, begging for money to get

enough oil for the day. Everyone thought it was a scam because why would a LAMBOURGHINI be

homeless? I scraped up enough to fill myself up with gas to come here. I just said "screw it. Do it, get it

over with and end your miserable life. " Because of the passion she vented as she recalled her predicament,

Doc had no doubt in his mind had he and the others not been there she indeed would have ended it.

"I'm grateful you have a new outlook. You are worth much more than you know. " Doc told her. Prince

smiled.


	20. Hippie Daze

In his long life Doc was only mixed up in one fight in which a car nearly lost his life. And Doc was the one that almost took it. The only other two who knew about said altercation were Sarge

and Fillmore. Beforehand he made no distinction between the outside world of non-racing enthusiasts and the race empire. His bitter downfall had taught him that no one was to be trusted.

A chance encounter with these two vehicles in San Francisco would change that. The year was 1968…the peak of the Flower Child era. Haight-Ashbury was the epicenter of the counter-

cultural movement; ground zero for the Baby Boomers who were now mostly in their late teens to 20s. But by no means did it exclude those who were older. Those under 30 had indeed

created the "counter movement" of peace, love, and illicit drugs. Not to mention some kick-ass music, but just as many participants of this new free love scene were well into their thirties,

even late forties. Quite a few even in their mid-fifties. The vast majority of the older cars who had parented the "hippies", of course frowned on the wild ways of their rebellious offspring and

seeming lack of respect for authority. Like every generation before them, they saw many things in their children that they despised, just as their parents saw in them in the 50s, and so-on.

Like every succeeding generation, this new group of the 60s saw their parents as behind-the-times.

To be sure there were many things this group did that were questionable: sitting around getting high all the time, snorting every chemical known, openly making out in public at concerts,

rioting against the National Guard and slamming anything associated with authority. Not all of them were like this. Many still respected their elders, welcomed home weary soldiers and

believed in abstinence. Not only believed in it but practiced it. Never smoked anything in their lives. There were many in the boomer generation who were openly embarrassed by the reckless

behavior of their fellow peers; these ones wanted nothing to do with getting on the Age of Aquarius bandwagon. Nonetheless many good things came out of this radicalized era: equal rights,

saving the planet, women's rights. Not to mention the music was seriously rivoting. The fifties had good music, but to Doc, nothing surpassed the rock-n-roll sixties. The fifties produced Elvis,

but the sixties brought true rock and roll as it was known today. Motown classics. The Supremes and The Beatles. John Lennon and his screaming wife Yoko Ono. Janice Joplin. The Byrds.

The Mamas and The Papas. And nobody could touch Jimi Hendrix's wicked electric guitar skills. The Summer of Love age was addictive. Himself a borderline hippie, Doc had travelled for 3 years

after having spent seven in a nuthouse behind his mental breakdown in 1958. Deemed sane enough to function, he was let go '65 and he simply drifted. He worked odd jobs from city to city,

staying in hotels or shelters until he saved up enough to move on to the next location. He travelled the world. Met all sorts of interesting women-lovers and male characters who became

acquaintances in the locations he wandered in. None of either sex he called friends because he had reached the point of distrusting everyone he met. The doctors were wrong; he wasn't cured

yet. Three years later and still in a deep funk, he found his way into San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district. He didn't know it was ground zero for "hippie-ism", and didn't care. He just wanted

to go somewhere and get plastered, then sulk on his hatred of professional racing. At age 35 he had yet to get over how he had been sidelined by the beloved sport he once loved, resulting in

the loss of everything he had. The shrink was supposed to make him feel better. Instead he left the State Hospital with even more hatred of life than when he was forcibly dragged in. Still he

was determined to pull himself together.

The sound of "**_San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)_**" performed by **Scott ****McKenzie** radiated through the air outside. Inside he sat at a local bar in downtown Haight,

immersed in his thoughts. A piece of genuine Native American Sioux deerskin draped over the top of his roof, almost like a hood. while a brown peace sign in the shape of a Celtic cross hung

on a hemp line beneath his grill. Thin wire framed glasses adorned his eyes that were level with his pupils. Yes, glasses because he was diagnosed as being near-sighted while in the pschyco

ward. They actually made him look a bit younger, not that he gave a crap in that point in time. Doc wasn't' looking for friends nor a bar buddy. And he certainly wasn't looking for "love" when

a pretty young hipster rolled right up to him. Even at his lowest point in the world Doc had been with many willing babes, popping acid with them and everything, but on this particular day he

wasn't looking to get high or laid. He was in the middle of lighting the cigarette dangling between his teeth when she said "Hey" to him. Doc shifted his eyes towards her, fixating her with a

disinterested stare. "Hey." he returned her greeting, if it could be called that in a low mumble. Being only 35 he still had his youthful voice but the volume of it clearly heralded his lack of

desire for a chat. He turned his gaze away proceeding to light his Camel in the process. He was sick of blow jobs; he just wanted to be left alone. Still going by his first name of Hudson, Doc

decided to ignore her and keep sipping on his beer, cigarette in wheel. He had expected her to get a clue from his behavior that he was in no mood for a conversation. But the girl appeared to

be either desperate for a pal to talk to or worse yet, appeared a bit strung out. Her motions were somewhat jerky, he noticed, like she was on a trip. She was friendly enough however, thus he

tolerated her presence.

She kept rambling on about liking his paint job and his beautiful eyes reminding her of humming birds, some crazy shit like that. Really digging his eyeglasses, she said. She had no idea that

Doc was shutting her out when he shut his eyelids. This girl was seriously ruining his alcoholic high. Feeling his buzz intensifying he really didn't catch most of what she said. Immersing

himself in his thoughts more than her speech, he tuned her out like a radio without even realizing it himself. He had no true urge to move to another spot because to him it would have been

very rude to do so. It was not in his nature to be outright rude to people or even mildly so, therefore he had hoped that eventually she would move on. When it didn't happen he finally stared

dully at her . In his frustration he blew out a whiff of smoke. He secretly wondered how long it would take before she realized he really wasn't up for talking. After all he hadn't responded to a

single thing she said. Her seemingly mindless banter was interrupted by a mustang that came upon her. Quick. "So you got a new boyfriend now?" He menaced the young car. Doc returned

his eyeballing with a look of "..whatever man" before turning up his drink. The lady responded in kind, informing him that she was just striking up a conversation. The mustang began accusing

her of working for free, of trying to cheat him out of his dollars. That was when it occurred to Doc that the car was a prostitute and the vehicle towering over her was her pimp. Still Doc chose

to ignore it for what it was, an illegal employee and illegal employer going having their differences, that was, until the mustang struck her. The car smacked her hard enough to send her

spinning into a table of patrons. No sooner had he done so an entire table came smashing into his face. Next was a broken bottle bursting one of his tires, followed by several other smack

downs. Once the assault stopped and the barely-conscious mustang peeked up, he saw his attacker. A blue Hudson Hornet. The bastard was badly beaten to the point of dripping fluids from

every orifice yet Doc still wailed on him. Onlookers were now yelling at him to stop. Deaf to the protests Doc kicked the mustang out of a bar that he didn't even own, let alone didn't even

bounce at.

He would have made a good bouncer for sure.

The name-calling was not what set him off; it was the hitting. Doc scorned any car, truck or van that struck a female. While he frowned on profanities at a woman, striking one was

guaranteed to ignite his wrath. Hitting the opposite sex was something he couldn't tolerate, even if she was a slut. Using the M.F. word in every other sentence Doc beat the dazed mustang

clear out into the street. It was the most cursing he had ever mouthed in his existence. Without noticing the other customers watching in silence, he calmly reentered passing a pair of 1952

Hudson Hornets sitting in a corner. One was a lad barely 23 colored in aqua and white. He slowly stopped sipping on his brew as Doc passed. When Doc gave him a silent "_You got something to_

_ say_?" glance the younger Hornet gave him a wide berth. He pushed his beverage with him as he backed up. Doc pulled back up to the bar counter where he was before then proceeded to

down the rest of his drink, as though nothing happened.

**The psychotic Hudson Hornet who vented his rage on pimps.**

The hushed silence was of no concern to him. Letting out a sigh as he shoved the empty can aside, he threw his tip on the counter at the stunned bartender then turned to leave. He spoke

to no one on his way out, not even to the battered victim who watched her savior exit the premises. The green jeep by the door watched him roll out. Doc payed no attention to the injured

mustang's buddies who were scraping him off the pavement, barely breathing. The car had lost consciousness before being dragged in a pitiful heap onto a curb. The stupid whore tended to

him anyhow even in the face of being slapped silly by him. Doc made eye contact with her briefly as he passed, interpreting her expression with a mixture of relief and terror. Relief that he had

stopped her "man" from beating her senseless and terror that Doc had nearly ended his life in the process. The blue Hornet didn't care which. Although Doc had beaten the brute within an

inch of his life, no one bothered calling the police. Back in those days, fights were not considered major disturbances unless someone was actually killed as a result. The way society saw it:

where fighting was concerned, most likely the perpetrator had it coming. To these witnesses the mustang most certainly got his comeuppance even though they concluded that Doc went way

too far.

It was when he was outside that a pale green "hippie mobile" dashed up to him, railing on how cool it was to beat the crap out of that guy. He had flowers pinned to either side of his

windshield. Doc stared at him. He was ready to move on except that he couldn't shake his new admirer. The kid was ranting on about how appreciative "that girl was" for what he did, how he

was glad Doc did it. The eighteen-year-old then whined about how he was not like all the other hippies because he actually respected Vietnam soldiers. He didn't agree with war but that he

had no animosity against the soldiers as they were just doing what the government told them to do. He advised Doc that he had a cool Ashbury thing going on in his paint scheme. Or some

mindless shit like that. Doc glaring at him didn't seem to phase him. He kept pulling up in front of Doc every time Doc tried to go around him. He felt cursed; he simply couldn't understand

why non-deserving cars attracted all of the good guys while **_HE_** kept getting all the retards. He wanted to tell this teenager to beat it, but he seemed harmless enough. The youth introduced

himself as "Fillmore".

_"Hudson. Pleased to meet you."_

_"Dude, I can see that you're a Hudson Hornet; I mean your real name."_

_"That is my real name. My first name...is Hudson."_

The green jeep who had been watching the whole exchange entered the fray and introduced himself as Sarge. A veteran of WW II. Fillmore would grow on Doc, but Sarge he immediately took

a liking to. Perhaps because Sarge was around his age bracket. Sarge was just ten years older than Doc and even he had a bit of hippie love. He did; younger ones called him "Papa Sarge".

They loved him, respected him and dared not speak ill of the military in his presence. Doc likewise was given an affectionate nickname by the circle in Fillmore's commune: "Big Brother". From

then on Fillmore and Sarge became Hudson's buddies. The three grew very close in a short amount of time and rented a 3-room garage together. They found steady work while Doc worked

and attended Medical school. This created little time for him to party with Sarge and Fillmore but all three of them to Woodstock together in 1969, then left San Francisco. With the Summer of

Love drawing to a close they were all eager for new avenues in life. Eventually they all happened upon the little town of Radiator Springs in 1977 where they settled. Doc, Sarge and Fillmore

had known each other since the late sixties and prior to entering Radiator Springs, Sarge and Fillmore were the only friends Doc had. All those years and even Sarge and Fillmore had no idea

that Doc was the Hudson Hornet. Prince chuckled to herself as Doc finished up his true account of meeting the Sarge and Fillmore. "You look quite becoming in glasses." she examined the

1970 photograph of Doc, Fillmore and Sarge. "I'm still glad I got Lasik surgery though." Doc grunted "Got my eyes fixed right before McQueen showed up."

Life sometimes had a strange way of introducing friendships.


	21. Strip Life

**WARNING: *ahem*--word of caution. the term "rimming' here does not mean that. *ahem* it means another *ahem* act. not for the**

** faint-hearted.**

The rest of the evening went along as the twosome rocked methodically to more songs, both a mixture of romantic Italian and some 60s oldies

some of the musicians knew. The dinner was exquisite and on Doc's request, was accompanied by a solo violinist. A spiffy black prius with a

white underside. Everyone was focused on Doc and Prince because they made such a unique-looking couple. Cars could live well over a hundred

years if they took care of themselves and Doc was a prime example. While it was clear he was a piece of steel twice Prince's age, he had a

youthfulness that complimented his otherwise noble demeanor. Certainly he was not "childish" but he didn't believe in acting his age. It was the

perfect mix of the two. Prince was a rare species. So few Lambourghinis existed and the majority that did seemed to be very self-absorbed and

narssissistic. Not all of them were this way but many were knowing they were coveted. Prince certainly didn't come off as self-centered or

conceited. She came off as a very sweet and down-to-earth personality. She was. Young, maybe not a teenager or in her 20s but certainly not

old by any standards. 30s was seen by many to be the new 20s, but at a more mature level. She just seemed like a type of car that brought

things out in Doc no one ever knew existed. Knowingly or unknowingly she had him acting in ways and doing risky things no body

ever could picture. It was as if she woke up the naughty boy in the old man.

With the dinner side, over the two were heading out on the stretch of road back to the Strip field of Radiator Springs. Now knowing some of

Doc's and McQueen's background, she had begun taking a serious interest in racing as a whole. It wasn't she didn't like racing; she just wasn't

the racing type who could "sit and watch what she described as a bunch of cars running around a track inhaling the funky fumes of the cars in

front of them until someone went over a line painted on the pavement". The statement had Doc laughing. To Prince it just looked boring. But her

race out with Doc had now roused her curiosity about it. He explained the differences between long-lap endurance racers like Lightning and

himself who could do hundreds of laps and drag racers like the Delinquents who were modified for short bursts of sudden speeds. Nearly

impossible speeds for just a few hundred yards. Flames and everything shooting from them. "Drag racers go so fast that some of them have to

use parachutes to slow them down at times. They can reach speeds of 300 easy, where most ordinary race cars usually don't exceed 120 miles

per hour on the track." Doc explained. "Still, 120 mph is pretty FAST, you know. Even for cars like me. " Prince added truthfully. "Yes. But you,

being a naturally- bred design, YOU wouldn't need thrusters to shoot your pretty tail off down a short lap. Most drag racers have to

be retrofitted to go as fast as they do. A car like YOU; you could naturally get up to 250, even 300 easy if you worked on it." Doc told her. Prince

smiled to herself. "Yeah." she said quietly.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you as the Hudson Hornet. I heard that name alot in Vegas a few years back when they had the that huge Piston

race that shut down the country practically. They even cancelled all of our shows because of it. Of course I didn't mind it; it was an extra day off

for me. " Prince said. She had yet to properly meet Lightning, since she thwarted that chance by fleeing from the cafe the other night. Doc still

wouldn't let her live it down. "You should have seen the look on your face kiddo; I might as well should have been your father." Doc chuckled.

Prince found the whole incident quite amusing, now that it was over. "Well, if you liked what you saw then it makes me feel much better. It really

was meant to be a private show. So, tell me about this 'Strip'". "This is my first time at the Strip too, but from what I hear this is where the "in"

crowd goes. I think you'll like it. I'm quite curious to see what this is Strip is all about. You know, they do drag race there. Yeah; I can see you

being a drag racer, I mean, you can really get up when you first get up. You're built for that sudden-burst-of-speed thing; oh yeah you'd give any

dragster hell. You would give the Delinquents a run for their money."

They entered the Strip amid thousands of swarming vehicles. The capacity didn't include the Axle club next door which likewise was jammed with

party goers. Prince was already getting pschyed up--this was her kind of crowd indeed. Still she was infatuated to realize that there were many

cars--like Doc--here as well. It was not at all unheard of for younger cars to modify themselves to take on an older-style model if they had the

means to do so. The older "period piece" look was in, that is the types like Flo, Sheriff and Doc; those models never phased out. Many styles

from the 20s right through the 60s and 70s were still in demand for those who wanted to undergo reconstruction because the "period piece"

look always had been in style to this day. There were teenagers who had a 40s style to them if their parents agreed to the reconstructing

though it was generally frowned on for such youngsters to undergo a change that early in life. The other way around held true as well: some

cars well over fifty and sixty chose more modern looks. The truth was, most vehicles accepted and liked themselves as they arrived in this world,

no matter their makes or models. Most were happy as they were. But there was nothing wrong with opting for a make over sometimes. Though

very rare, it was possible for a younger car to be born with a natural frame that turned it into a an antique model like Doc or Flo. It DID happen.

There were cars there who clearly were in Prince's age group, even younger who had the body styles of 1940s and 50s designs. And she saw at

least one modernized Nissan truck that clearly was like Doc, he had that "fatherly" image but had the build of a 1999 Nissan bed. Prince found

out he was nearly 50 years old. Prince looked around her in wonder as she stayed close to her date. Then out of nowhere a loud flourescent-

purple corvette rolled right up on her, so close that when he spoke he was practically on top of her. "Hey baby so whats 'YO name?" He flashed a

row of chrome-plated teeth that matched the 22-inch spinning rims on his wheels. Prince cringed. The harsh reflection of his teeth slaughtered

her eyes. "You looking real good tonight baby doll you know that?" A startled Doc just sat watching. Quickly overcoming the sudden rude

interruption his face changed to annoyance and then...humor. This gent was acting so stupid it was hard for him to really get irate. "Um, excuse

me, but I'm with somebody else. Now could you please--" Prince started politely as she could. The corvette was dragging her away as he

continued with his pathetic pick-ups. Prince was looking at Doc with a look of "Help??" But he seemed amazingly unconcerned. _Wow, even in a _

_hick-town like __this I get no peace from the guys._ "Yo man ain't my problem baby; what he don't know won't hurt.." the brazen show-off was

suddenly cut off by the powerful roar what sounded like a racing engine at full blast. It was so loud that he and Prince jumped simultaneously, as

did a slew of other vehicles gathered nearby.

They both looked to see Doc just sitting there, staring at the car dully. It was hard to decipher what he was thinking or feeling. He didn't look

upset, not even irritated. He looked stoic yet there was a spark in his eyes that warned the unwelcome suitor to expect no further warning from

him next time around. Inch by inch Doc started to creep forward, never taking his nonchalant stare off of the unnerved intruder. His wicked

engine was rumbling in such a way that it quaked the ground beneath him, and vibrated across the ground into both Prince and her

self- imposing admirer. It sent an almost erotic chill through her as she felt his pulsating throttling so near her but the car gawking her felt an

entirely different sensation. The aura he picked up from Doc's twin-H engine was one of "Back the hell off of her." and that's exactly

what the Doc was thinking. His looks were deceiving: the sound of this old timer's engine warned him that, despite the corvette having the age

advantage, the Hornet would do more than run him over if he didn't back down. As Doc got closer the pulsating thrumming of his blocks and

pistons vibrated the corvette's own engine, and as if to drive that point home Doc let out a series of mini-revs for good measure, causing the

flashy corvette to cower and retreat into the crowd. Doc's eyes stared him all the way back into the crowd as Vette backed up in reverse, etching

a stupid grin on his face as he retreated. It was so hilarious to watch Doc's approach, to see him clearly aggravated by what he was seeing and

still keep a collective face as if nothing was going on. The gentle yet overpowering low growl of Doc's engine was like some sort of low frequency

sonar. It was rocking the entire body of Prince inside and out as he pulled up beside her. He sat idling next to her totally unaware that he was

having such a calming effect on her due to Prince picking up on his seismic shaking. But Wingo who had been watching the entire scene play out

burst into his maniacal laughter. The Hornet's entire frame vibrated silently against her body, merely hinting at the monstrous horsepower

underneath. Prince was relieved Doc came to her rescue. She was almost ready to smack the corvette.

"Hey Doc'co! Prince, glad ya two made it. So, how ya' like the Strip?" "I love it!" Prince immediately chimed in. "It's interesting." was Doc's only

answer, his version of "Well, I guess it's okay." He did like it. DJ and Tia pulled up squabbling about something as they usually did. This time Tia

was painted to match her man. She kept her black top however, but she looked so cute, and almost too small for DJ who practically towered over

her. "YOU ARE SUCH A FREAK DJ. That hurts, you know it does." "No I wouldn't know because I've never had it done to ME. I'm a guy I'm not

supposed to. But you' the GIRL ---you can handle it. It ain't like I wasn't gentle. Baby, you know I'ma take care of you but fo real tho, stuff

bigger than THAT comes out of you naturally. And don't _act_ like you didn't like it because you know you did. " he fired back at her. She blushed

and leaned up against him. He was right. Wingo and Doc had heard some of their conversation and immediately got a hint of what the topic was.

Clueless as usual, Prince didn't. She also didn't know just how open the Road Hazard Delinquents --or the twins were on the issue of sex, but

she was about to find out. "I have yet to have one of those okay, so nothing that big has come out of me yet okay???" "If I get my way it will

happen one day." DJ retorted. "Not if you damage me to the point where I CAN'T give you one." Tia, like her sister and the Delinquents had no

reservations about bringing up such a topic, especially in the presence of another female. Girls were like guys; they always talked about

what their boys did. She didn't know Prince was so "behind" on the making out thing. Right away she shot at Prince. "Prince! Have you ever

been rimmed up before?

Doesn't that hurt? " She didn't know about Prince's strict upbringing or the fact that Prince didn't exactly live the wild girl image in Las

Vegas. But like most females, naturally Tia assumed Prince had to know what that meant. Prince was genuinely confused. Wingo was completely

unphased by Tia bringing it up. Doc was only mildly shocked, more so that Prince seemed so puzzled by Tia's question. He had long grown

accustomed to the blatant straightforwardness of the Road Hazard Delinquents discussion on the art of love. But even an old-timer like him knew

what "rimming up" was. He had done it to some girls back in his wilder 60s days. It was a very rare fetish; the vast majority of cars never

engaged in it because it was just too out there for most of them, most girls were not brave enough to take something that large inside of them,

and honestly, most guys were reluctant to jam their front tires, rims and all into a space that seemed so small to them. Simply put, to most now

like then, it was viewed as just too sadistic. Unless you were being operated on by a surgeon, or fixed by a mechanic, most vehicles believed

that one's ENTIRE tire simply did not belong in THAT part of an undercarriage. Even so, EVERYONE knew what a rim up was. Whether they had

done it to someone or had it done or not. No one could be that dense, could they? Was this Lambourghini really this clueless?

She really had no idea what Tia was talking about and proceeded to throw the small car a dumb look with a muttered "Ummmm." "Look, if a

BABY'S HEAD and a baby's BODY can come out of you--which is way bigger than somebody's tire and rim then you can take it, right???" DJ

questioned Prince. Doc struggled not to laugh as he saw Prince's face change colors, catching on to what the question was. "Why would you

wanna do that??" she was petrified and disgusted. Next came the expected physical reaction; hood blush. She looked from DJ to Tia several

times, seeing how small she was compared to him and tried to picture him putting his whole arm up in her. Newborns were bigger than a tire, so

maybe it was possible. "It feels good after the first several times once you get stretched open." DJ added. "Oh like you know? You've

been doing something I don't know about?" Tia mockingly accused. Doc found Prince's ignorance of sex so cherishing. He couldn't help but love

her for it. What a night, what a night this was going to be. "It sounds painful." was the only lame answer the Lambourghini could make. "It IS."

Tia grumbled. "But it felt good after a while didn't it? You sho' as fuck was acting like it. Telling me to go deeper--" DJ was cut short by Prince who

had had enough. "I'm going to go get us drinks. You two want anything?" she asked the young couple. "No thanks, I'm good." Tia responded.

"We good." DJ followed suit. Wingo just shook his head, completely unbothered by the graphic topic. Grinning, Prince drove off to the bar. And

Doc watched her go, grinning the entire way. "So Doc, you like our Strip?" DJ changed the subject. "Actually I do. This is quite an

amazing set up here. I didn'trealize this many cars came here." Doc told him. "Maybe you should get out more." Wingo told him.

Return to Top


	22. Wingo's View of Drag Racing

****The word "pig" is a very derragotory word used to describe a police officer. It's not a word I like personally because cops have a tough job to do. This is gang jargon so for anyone reading this who may be a cop of know a cop personally, please do not take offense to this. I only use this word as part of this chapter to describe how the two of the Delinquents were back then. ****

The night progressed on with a show case of classic drag racing. The Strip sides were heavily padded with styrofoam and hay to

cushion any impact of cars veering off as well as to protect onlookers. It was a must for ambulances to be nearby just in case.

Really there were almost as many female drag racers as there were males, all of them just as modified with all the essentials

to make them as fast as the boys. despite being beefed up, they still no doubt looked incredibly feminime and "ladyish"; they

were not as overdone as some of their male counterparts. And none of them had trouble garnering flirtatious attention from the

fellows. anyone was allowed to compete in the dragging competition at the Strip, regardless of their year, make or model. so not all

of the participants were modified with booster canons or anything else. Many were standard vehicles who came as was, with

whatever they had under their hoods, with no fancy thingamajiggers to accelerate their speeds. So to give them a fair shot, the

"regulars" as true dragsters dubbed them went up against other regulars while the real drag cars dared each other. The regulars

didn't go as fast as the dragsters did, still many of them could punch the gas over 90 miles per hour. So that was still a very fast

speed for any vehicle. There were two types of racing at the Strip, the x-tremes who were essentially tuner types or "professional"

drag racers like the Delinquents and anyone else built like them. To be a professional you had to be tricked out like the tuners

which was considered by most to be the real look of dragsters anyway. The more tricked out you were the faster you were likely to

go. The ameteur category consisted of mostly "regulars", ordinary cars who simply took to the starting line with whatever they

were born with to see if they could burn rubber at all. Many were quite impressive to be sure. After all whoever could get up and

go first and get a few hundred yards down the end first was the winner. any car or truck screeching his or her tires in a haze of

smoke before screaming off down the track at 90+ miles in several seconds was always incredible to watch. The crowds cheered on

all who raced, whether they were ordinary club goers or the big timers. and many there secretly wanted the black Lambourghini to

race. It was hard to classify her at first. she wasn't "tricked up" but she would be far too much power against another ameteur. It

was already decided that if she ever did decide to give the drag track a shot, she would _have_ to be matched up in the x-treme

category with a real drag racer.

They would have to wait a while. Prince had become hooked to the drag racing but she was too chicken to get involved just yet.

And amid the disappointed "aw"s and even a few good-spirited boos, she timidly declined. maybe next time but not tonight. She

didn't have the gall to do it--yet. Doc even loved drag racing, now that he had actually witnessed it. Since his love for racing returned

he pretty much enjoyed anything that was race-related. Like standard racing, drag racing was indeed dangerous, perhaps more so.

on several occaisions, more than a few competitors came close to flipping up into the air of their own accord. On a traditional stock

car race track usually a car didn't go flipping unless he was t-boned by a rival. On rare occaisions a blown tire may cause a flip-out

or a crash. But professional stock car racers like Doc and Lightning were trained to control themselves and get back to the pits.

albeit shakily, but race cars were able to control their descent off the track and into the pit on bad tires. _Usually_. Even if racers were hit,

they usually just spun out on the tracks. Once in a while a really bad collision occurred sending one or several cars flipping violently

through the air. And some of those wrecks were fatal. The Piston Cup had its share of great tragedies on the track in which cars

were killed during a live race. It was a violent sport; drag racing was no different, only that it was stock car racing at its most

extreme level. The faster you went, the easier it was to lose control and flip or spin out. Some of these guys went taking off like

military jets on an aircraft carrier, and sounded like jets too. Not only did they sound like planes, some of them went airborne like

planes. THAT was a very bad sign. If racers in this sport lost contact with the ground it was a laws of physics certainty: they would

go flying up into the air. Because of the massive thrust involved to shoot them off the starting line they had no choice but to go up

if something happened. Gravity was sure to prevail in the end though and what followed was often a very violent rollover if the

participant didn't demolish himself from crashing into an object. They went so fast that if they hit something, they were totaled

beyond recognition. And yes, deaths did occur. Any form of racing was risky, be it professional stock car racing or drag racing. Boost,

DJ, Wingo, and Snot Rod all had their share of drag races gone amuk, each one had been spun out, banged, sideswiped, flipped and

smashed more times than they could count. All four Delinquents came from "The Hood". They were natives of Los Angeles, born and reared. DJ

and Boost both came from Nickerson Gardens in Long Beach, which was Blood territory, the gang that DJ belonged to, Snot Rod was in no gang

at all but many thugs still saw him as a brother. They welcomed him because he was easy going and friendly. He was from a poor area of West

Hollywood. Wingo was a Crip from Compton. Way back there was a serious war going on between America's two most notorious street gangs:

The Crips and the Bloods. Save for Boost and Snot Rod, the other two had been born into the gangs to parents who were gangmembers. This

was the only life these two knew. But both sides eventually tired of the violent aspects of confronting each other. By the early 1990s innocent

cars were being caught up in the gang shooouts and the like. And so a truce was made in 1993 between the two which surprisingly lasted to

this day. The gangs decided to settle beefs with street racing which was fast becoming a hot thing in its infant stages. Cops of course were

skeptical, not that the thugs cared but even cops realized that it was better for the gangs to burn rubber rather than blast bullets. Though

illegal, impromptu strips were created all over Los Angeles where vehicles could duke it out burning-rubber style.

When wind circulated that the "pigs" were comming, of course, it was time for everybody to split. Sometimes they got caught but the

punishment was so minor it did little to curtail the now-popular drag racing that drew larger and larger crowds each weekend. A night in jail, a

fine, maybe community service. Even politicians had to concede that drag racing was better than bullets flying and stray cars getting hit. But as

there were no _legal _race tracks to go to, the gangs created their own by sneaking into a professional track or just using surface streets in

neighborhoods. But this was dangerous because out-of-control participants could collide with innocent bystanders, some of whom lost their lives

in the process. Many outside were in favor of building legitimate drag racing strips, many were opposed to it. While debates raged back and

fourth the racing gangs simply went on racing every chance they got, suffering the consequences if caught. It was at these illegal events in 1995

that the four Delinquents actually met each other. And, the four of them immediately clicked together. Driving alongside of Boost, DJ was decked

out in red, the color of his Blood affiliation. Wingo had a tricked-out Blue paint job at the time proclaiming his Crip status. The three befriended

each other immediately and then included a fourth, the clumsy Snot Rod when he accidentally sneezed himself into the midst of their

conversation at one drag race. That moment still made the other three laugh now.

They were standing there, all discussing their love of racing when DJ got completely rear-ended...and blasted--clear across the other side of the

track by an "orange blurry object." DJ thought it was a meteorite that had hit him. It happened so fast Boost and Wingo had no clue what had

just flown past them until the orange thing came to a halt on the other side of the street next to DJ. The then-red Scion XB was lying on his side

where he landed, unharmed but just dazed. The newcommer lost control of one of his infamous sneezes, and that propelled him straight

toward 2 unsuspecting gang members. It just happened that DJ was in the right place for a collision to occur. Snot Rod flew unannounced into

the group, taking a bewildered DJ with him. When the other two went to check on them, the bedraggled DJ was looking for the meteor that

"knocked his ass into the next county". He was scuffed up, disoriented, but had no major scrapes at all. He was thoroughly convinced that a

rock came through the atmosphere and "knocked the shit" out of him. Rightside up again, was when he finally saw the car that hit him. "Snot

Rod" the barracuda called himself with the massive charger on his hood apologized excessively. Just years ago the outcome of such an

unwelcomed intrusion could have had deadly consequenses for Snot Rod. DJ and Wingo had passed their violent streaks and to Snot Rod's

surprise, actually welcomed his presence. Like Boost, he was a "clean homie". In other words, just an innocent being who had come here to

watch the races and maybe even compete. Just like that, the four of them struck up a permanent friendship and began hanging out together. At

the time Wingo and DJ were still gangbanging. By this point the Bloods and Crips were actually cool with each other so, the two of them were

friendly rivals when their gangs competed but there was one in DJ's group that was an A-hole.

Wingo was nearly killed in one particularly nasty race in which he and a dragster from a rival L.A. gang repeatedly rammed each other as they

charged down the Inglewood streets. He spent weeks on life support in a medical-induced coma. when he finally woke up his back tires were

temporarily paralyzed and it was learned there were pieces of metal in some of his rear wheel suspension that sat inches from permanently

paralyzing him. Because of where the shards were, it was not possible to remove them or replace his suspension without killing him; to this day

he drove around with debris from his terrible crash in 1998. Doctors had warned him to quit drag racing, because even another minor crash

could shift the pieces about thus permanently paralyzing him. Despite his mother's pleading Wingo refused to cave in. Drag racing was his life.

His mentality was that of the other 3; if he had another wreck and never drove again, or died then so be it. He accepted the dangers that came

with this sport so he was connected for life. If he wound up deceased or spending the rest of his life being towed about, fine. If he died or got

messed up doing what he loved that's what mattered. He had a long recovery but his friends, which included the gangs he and DJ were in stuck

to his side the entire time.

When Wingo raced again after he healed and he faced off against the same foe who almost killed him a year later, it became personal. He and

this rival had been beefing for some time over the same girl causing violent confrontations between his gang and the others. And DJ would side

with Wingo. Wingo had gotten over the girl; he had moved on but the other thug wouldn't let it go. So when Wingo was nearly silenced for good

in 1998 everybody knew it was no accident. The guy hadn't counted on Wingo to make a full recovery but he did and challenged the dude to a

rematch everyone was both stunned--and nervous. Wingo's near-death encounter changed him. He could deal with an accident. what he

wouldn't deal with was someone trying to take him out over crap that wasn't even his doing. he didn't want the girl, told the rival thug he didn't

want her but he was some big-headed m-effer who thought he ruled the streets. The way Wingo rolled up to the track with his gaze centered

on his longtime rival was a textbook scene out of Kill Bill Volume I flick. He looked like a male version of "The Bride". The look in Wingo's eyes

was murderous, so it surprised no one when during the race he t-boned the kid purposely damaging his _own _front half ramming into his

opponent. Caused the guy to flip more than 15 times and cut through a pole. What Wingo committed probably would have made "Bill" proud.

The other dragster hit the telephone pole so violently it tore him in two. He died instantly. unlike DJ who was accidentally mixed up in a

race-gone-wrong that took a dragster's life, the death Wingo caused was intentional. Wingo had badly injured himself to the point where he

had to be tube-fed for a week. He didn't see it as murder. He saw it as payback. There was an unspoken code in the world of **street gang **

**racing**. This code was called: "If you intend to kill your opponent you better do it. Or, reap what you had tried to sow IF you fail." Shortly after

this incident, DJ and Wingo both left their respective gangs for good. Both were determined to live law-abiding lives. But they still kept many of

their "hood" qualities. Even now, one wrong move could make Wingo paralyzed because of his old injury but he lived life on the edge. He'd

rather die than quit drag racing and he studied the Lambourghini. He being the hardened hood he was, he still had a soft streak. He had to side

with Doc, Prince would make a good drag racer. She would have to think about it. It was addictive to watch to be sure but she just wasn't

ready to make her debut tonight.

"Hey that's understandable. I mean, it is dangerous. But Chrysler forbid you could leave here tonight and get hit by a drunk and killed. Hey, life

is full of dangers you know? You can't stay locked up in a shell forever Prince. At least you're coming around. Hell--when I first met you you shied

away from your own shadow. You're really down-to-earth, you're gorgeous as shit and I know you could race your muffler off. But at least you're

talkin' to us, right?" Wingo playfully teased her. "yes." Prince giggled when he poked her side with a tire. "And get used to us being so blunt

about screwing. that's how the four of us are." he added. "No disrespect to ladies but we always keep it real." "I'll try to remember that

Wingo."


	23. Madonnaesque

The rest of the night carried on with Prince and Doc having the times of their lives. After revelling in watching some racing, they headed over to the Axle. It

was like entering another planet when the two stepped in. Prince hadn't gone out in so long she had almost forgotten what it was like to party. Due to the

overbearing heckling from her new manager, she became depressed, losing interest in activities she once enjoyed like club going. That wasn't the only

reason. As she was older, she was not much of a party animal like she once was. Doc was equally awestruck. The Axle was a huge club; despite being

practically in the middle of nowhere it had become quite famous, branded as one of the biggest in the Southwest/West Coast. So popular that it attracted the

likes of MTV crews and celebrities even. The club was three levels: there was an underground basement floor, the level floor, then one floor above, all

connected by an intricate series of ramps and elevators for those too lazy to trek uphill to get to a higher floor. And you could see the basement floor because

parts of the "first" floor level was made entirely of GLASS. Thick, reinforced plexiglass/glass that was strong enough to support the weight of a full house. The

whole floor wasn't glass but the parts that were were large enough for anyone standing above to get a sizable view of the scenery below.

The bars on each floor were one simply one long unit that wrapped around the entire floor. Flare bartenders put on a show of flipping cans and condiments as

they readied patron's drinks. The dance floors were titanic, crammed with hundreds of bodies on just this one floor. All levels combined, there were close to

nearly 4,000 vehicles, the full capacity of the nightclub. And the lights. The lights were totally blinding. The whole inside was flooded with an ocean of

psychedelic colors. Laser beams of every color whipped about in a whirl for yards across the large floor, blinding the atmosphere in a sea of rainbow haze.

Strobe lights flickered so rapidly that the bodies in the club seemed to move in a form of stop motion, to include Prince and her gentleman. Even the night

clubs in Las Vegas didn't have these pyro-like features. Doc was blinded. The minute he and Prince entered he was blasted by a misty spray of some kind of

"smoke" ejecting from the floor below him, topped off with a face full of strobe light. "GREAT JESUS- WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY TRYING TO DO BLIND

US?!!!" he was so startled by the lights and forgetting all about Prince he just blurted it out. He was loud enough for a couple of cars nearby to jump. Prince

started laughing hard. It really was funny. He hadn't set foot in any kind of club since the sixties, and clubs then were way different from the out-of-this-world

tech they had now. Still laughing Prince gingerly took him by the tire and led him to the already packed dance floor, his eyes still squinted tight from the

torment of the lights. He opened them only after he felt his date swaying seductively against him. "Good GRIEF." he shook his head with a growl, still feeling

vertigo from the assault on his pupils. Prince adored his expression as it morphed into his warm father-like self, his eyes now adjusted to the strange lights.

"You youngsters these days with all this technology. " "Surely now they had some kind of nightclub technology back in the 50s and 60s did they not?" Prince

egged on. "Not like THIS. Our clubs were good but...not like this.", Doc motioned his head about for emphasis. "But I guess it's not so bad. An old timer like

me could get used to this I think." The music had a very catchy beat, a euro house track called **"Blue" by Eiffel 62**. All the cars around them were swarmed

in a writhing mass of gyrating, bobbing and bouncing figures, while several djs took turns spinning the music, one of which of course was none other than DJ.

He was only one of several music providers for the Axle. For an "old man", Doc really could move. He was no Usher by any means but he certainly had a

groove that had even others nearby checking him out. His dancing was nothing fancy nor ridiculous. It was a steady side-to-side sway in sync with the

music, periodically spiffed up with a bob here and a few head nods there. Doc had some good rhythm. Prince spun around in a circle gleefully, rocking in ways

Doc would never understand while at the same time, restraining himself from leaping onto her and performing an x-rated cameo in full view of an audience.

Every time the light hit her backside it reflected off her strange thong-like paint design, with a painted garter belt that seemed to emit gemstones. It was a

huge turn-on but at the same time it wasn't so heavy that it made her look trashy. It made her look highly sophisticated, like some sort of antique female

he'd see in a 1922 black and white portrait. She almost had a Madonna-like look to her in her style. Like she belonged in a Prince video.

"Question for you? How DID you come to be called Prince? Is that your real name?" "It is." she answered him in a yell over the loud music. "It's on my birth

certificate. Before my parents got heavy into religion when I was born they named me Majagourie. That was my real first name but in 1979 when Prince the

rock star first emerged with his first album, my parents were huge fans of his at the time. So they went down to the courthouse and legally changed my

name to Prince. I was six years old then. After answering to Majagourie for six years they just one day told me "your name is Prince now." Which was cool

with me because I liked it really. My my father became a preacher he wanted my name changed back of course but by them I was sixteen, and the courts

thought it was unfair for me to have to switch names after I had been known as Prince all my life. They felt I was old enough to decide for myself whether to

keep my name so that kind of pitted me against my parents then. Things just soured after that. Always quick to remind me how I carried the name of a

"sinful musician that was gonna bust Hell wide open." she shook her head in disgust. "It's just a name." Doc said. "They didn't see it that way. And anyway,

I LIKE Prince." "Any particular music you prefer?" Doc looked down at her. "Not really. I'll listen to almost anything. Rap, country, you name it. Oldies. If I

like it I'll listen to it." Prince shut her eyes as she pressed up against Doc. The song was nearly over when DJ, who took over the turntables cleverly molded

the next track into Eiffel 62's. Prince burst to life as she heard it. Doc's eyes searched for DJ and found him looking down at him winking his eye at the

hornet. He kept his promise to play this song. Doc mouthed a thank you at him.

She didn't know it was selected just for her. It was the **_Immaculate Collection version_** of **_Madonna's "Like A Prayer"_**. Doc didn't know it but it was one

of his date's favorite tracks. Doc classified it as one of his too. Prince began dancing in circles around Doc who picked up on her teasing and followed her act.

He liked the song and bobbed accordingly to it. "I take it you like this Madonna hit too, right?" he grinned at her. "Of course. Naturally. I like everything she

puts out." "She DOES put out some good music. I have to hand it to her. I do like her style, I have to admit. I always did." Doc muttered. "What do you

know about MADONNA???" Prince questioned him lovingly. "Quite a bit actually. I'm not as "behind the times' as you think I am." Doc told her. "You...kind of

remind me of her, almost. Idunno; it's your style, you have that period piece girl look to you, like you could fit in any time frame. Any era, like she does. You

have that Madonnaesque feel to you. You have that look like, I could go into an art museum and look at a Renaissance painting by Leonardo Da Vinci of

a..wine girl or something." Doc tried to portray her. She was giggling "And if I stare at you long enough, You come to life in that painting." He stopped dancing

and stroked her cheek. "You make me feel things I swore off never to feel again. I want you more than you know. Since I've first met you I've had to fight

with everything I have to...to keep from molesting you literally. I'm not going to lie to you. I want you bad. I WANT IT--BAD. I haven't known you long but

and isn't just a sex thing with me Prince. I truly, deeply care about you. Its safe for me to say...I love you. I love you, want you. I need you. YOU. Not

your body. YOU." He turned deadly serious suddenly, a hard stare fixed at Prince. "I need to know, could a young girl like you have an old man like me? I

don't mean just for the lust aspect. I mean, would you have ME be yours. Only yours?" He was implying where was this potential relationship going. His

eyes were also making it clear to her that he wasn't into playing games. He needed to know and know now where she stood with him. Was this little fling of

theirs going to go somewhere or not. Slowly, she nodded. And she gave him her most truthful answer. "Yes, I could have you, and you only. I'm very new at

this Hudson. I've never been in a relationship of any kind. You'll have to show me what to do, how to please you, how to be a good companion to you.." Doc

put a tire to her mouth. "Shhhhh." he said quietly. "That can be easily worked on. You've given me your answer. The rest can wait." Doc saw it. It was no

game. She was allowing him to lay claim to her as his own. His woman. He closed the distance between them. His prayer had been answered.

The song played on as they kissed, forgetting everything around them. She went out with him as a date. And left the club officially his girlfriend. She opted to

spend the night with him at his garage in a sleepover. They did exactly that-they SLEPT, she nestled almost under his larger frame.


	24. Some Welcome

**NOTE: Next Chapter will be posted on Apr 20th. I'll be really busy tomorrow (sorry--you can hit me *Hides under desk*). **

**WARNING: Some sexual stuff. **

As the dawn broke Prince was the first to stir. It was still quite early with the rising sun indicating it to be about 5:30 A.M. or so. Still unfamiliar

with the layout of Doc's garage she didn't know where his clock was. As she shifted her eyes about she got a good look at his garage for the first

time. By far it was no palace. It certainly was not dirty by any means. It was quite tidy, perhaps a bit cluttered with boxes and the like

everywhere. It could use a little dusting off but otherwise it was not bad. It was a roof over one's head. Yes, Doc very well could afford to have a

very large garage if he so chose being a judge and doctor, not to mention a respected veteran in the racing circuit who still appeared in the public

eye as Lightning's Crew Chief and sometimes Race Commentator when Lightning wasn't racing. So, he wasn't exactly "broke" by any means. The

garage suited him fine; it warehoused his belongings, if in a somewhat disorderly manner, it was big enough to fit both him and Prince inside with

plenty of space to move about freely, and bottom line, it was _his_ domain. He could keep his garage as he saw fit. Besides, Prince really wasn't the

materialistic type. Well, yes she was, she WAS a lady. She'd be lying to say she wasn't but truthfully, she was as comfortable in a somewhat

dusty garage filled with clutter as she was in the once –lavish condo she shared with her dancing roommate. If push came to shove, she could do

without many things. Just being next to Doc was all she cared for.

He was sound asleep still, and was a silent sleeper. It was odd; she was a known snorer and was convinced he would have woken up by now

thanks to her noisy breathing. But there was no mistaking it, he was in a deep slumber. For the first time she got a good look at his front, and

noted the interesting tattoo like wording of "**I STING**." near the corner of his left eye. It made him almost look a dangerous old-school hoodlum

on his guard even in his sleep. Just looking at him was getting her heated and she sat there, pondering whether or not to go ahead and get

brave. Wake him up in a special kind of way. She opted to do it. With the silence of a feline, she ventured around the back of Doc's motionless

body, and flattened herself as low to the floor as she could, searching for his muffler pipe. She had never given a pipe job in her life, and at first,

the very idea of putting that part of a car in her mouth disgusted her to no end. But after what he did to her yesterday, she felt compelled to

return the favor, and, well, just looking at him sleeping on the floor was making her want to give him the morning wake up of his life. Feeling his

face between her rear wheels yesterday drove her to the brink of insanity. She had no idea oral sex was that good. She was sure she wasn't

supposed to hit the edge as quick as she did but that wasn't important now. What she wanted to know now was if he felt the same sensations

she felt while Doc did what he had done yesterday. She swallowed hard and then moved her face closer and closer. She was not sure if she

could even get a good grip on it with her mouth because the frame of his body was nearly touching the floor, making his pipe barely invisible. It

peeked out at her almost taunting her to try to get to it. She stuck her tongue out in a sorry attempt to lick at it but she wasn't close enough to

reach it, and tasted the floor instead. She shook her head at the repulsive taste of encountering dirt rather than metal decided on a new tactic.

Maybe she could nibble at it. Just a little nick and maybe it would shift him enough, not to wake him up but make him move into a more accessible

position.

She stretched herself out clumsily and puckered out her lips to get at his tail pipe. She had to really press herself hard against the floor to even

reach the tip of his muffler with the edge of her teeth. She couldn't quite nip it like she wanted but did manage to get the tip of her tongue just

around the edge of his muffler. He didn't taste so bad. It was quite pleasant actually, and she could feel it trembling in response. Doc groaned

and stirred. Something or someone was teasing the exit of his tail pipe. Very sensitive are on a male…very INTIMATE area on a him. It felt _oral_ in

nature. ANY body or anything swirling a tongue on that area of a male car's body was guaranteed to wake that car up. His eyes suddenly shot

open and he scurried around in a frenzied circle, causing Prince to back away from him in short-lived panic. "I…I was trying to give you morning

greeting to remember??" She smiled lamely. Doc was looking at her and then burst out laughing. " Little lady, that's a hell of a way to wake

somebody up. Rule number one. It's hard to blow somebody in his sleep. I don't care how deeply asleep he is, when he feels THAT, he will wake

up." He was hardly disappointed. Prince flashed him a sheepish grin. "I'd like to try it again." Prince regained her confidence. Doc lifted a

windshield like it was an eyebrow. "Prince, I don't want you to feel like you have to do this now…what I did to you last night that came from my

heart. It wasn't just a tryst. If you're not ready…." "But I am, Doc. I want to try it. Tell me what to do. How to do it." She was adamant. And Doc

was no fool. Any man who turned down a pipe job was an idiot. Even he wasn't that stupid. He was the venerable town judge and well-respected

doctor of Radiator Springs and all of that; right now, the idea of Prince putting that curvaceous mouth of hers on his private areas was getting

him horny.

Nonetheless, he kept his nobility. "Oh, Pri-iiince," he hissed her name in a drawn-out growl full of eroticism and need, and he crouched his

front half lower, with his end rising just high enough to give her access. "As a beginner, you can take it nice and slow, tease it, play with it. Get

the feel of it against your mouth." He started instructing her, unaware that she had already positioned herself behind him and had jumped ahead

of him. He fell silent and tensed up, feeling her curious tongue lave the edge of his pipe. He gritted his teeth, slightly arching himself up and

against her fellatious act. "Just…yes.." he etched out when he felt her kissing the underside of his muffler. She was enjoying this. She got braver.

Doc's breathing was deep and steady, each exhale followed by a throaty moan. "Ssssss, *exhale*, ssssss mmmhmm…..sss—**OWWWWWW**!!!"

without warning, Prince jammed her tounge into his pipe interior while simultaneously biting down on it---as _**hard**_ as she could. She immediately

let go and jumped back, embarrassed that she had inflicted such pain on him. Obviously she didn't do that right. Doc was doing doughnuts,

cringing in agony that replaced the short-lived ectasy. "Ow! Wow! Wow! SSsss----ieee! No it's okay Prince, oh….don't be ashamed. " Doc grimaced

painfully as he tried to regain some sense of his composure through his discomfort. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Hudson—please forgive

me!" the Lambourghini pleaded as she followed him, thoroughly crushed she was the source of his aching. "It's okay. {*grimace*} Really. Don't

worry about it. Just give me a minute okay? That's enough for this morning I think. " Doc attemepted the best smile he could muster. "Don't feel

bad it happens. You and I will both laugh about this..one day." All she could do was nod still upset about her embarrassing debut on oral

stimulation. The majority of the pain gone, Doc settled down to recover with Prince next to him. She felt like an idiot. "No body's born knowing all

the tricks. It's gonna take time. Hey, cheer up kid. I'm as tough as they come. " Doc told her. Prince was starting to grin now, now realizing how

absurd it was to bite down. "I don't know what I was thinking; I thought I could bite down a little and get you roused." "Oh yeah, you can bite

but just not like that. You gotta keep in mind that's a very sensitive area for us boys." Doc told her. His expression turned briefly solemn. "You,

know, this garage is big enough for both of us to live here." He was hinting at her to move in with him. She revealed her answer with a gracious

beam. They were boyfriend and girlfriend now. They might as well room together.

**Next: the new and (somewhat) improved Snot Rod still manages to cause chaos.**


	25. The Combine Whisperer NOT

Snot Rod's new appearance was quite impressive. Gone was the "bulky supercharger thingy" as Mia called it

from his hood, this time relocated behind him, smack in the middle of his back bumper. It was discovered that

it was not at all uncommon for superchargers to be situated on the hood if a car persisted, however it was

not recommended simply due to the fact that it hampered a vehicle's ability to see properly. The usual –and proper as far as a

mechanic saw it‑ place for such a feature was mounted behind the car. The barracuda looked like a totally different personality.

Gone were the green eyes straying independently of each other off to the corners of his whites, making him look in two directions

at once. Now he could focus like a real car with eyes should. As predicted, also gone was his sneezing. And as expected, his

stuttering returned. But his friends seemed to not care about his newfound handicap. To them he was still their Snotty. It was true

what the saying said: real friends didn't care; they stood by one and accepted one as was. For that Snot Rod was very grateful.

He feared he would have been made fun of by the Delinquents as he had been as a child growing up, endlessly enduring the cruel

taunts of other children about his speech problems. But the Delinquents had made clear to Snot Rod long ago when he first

entered their click that he was one of them, regardless of what he was or had. Once the Delinquents accepted them into their

pack, he was branded as a homie for life.

Well, yes they did sort of pick on him for his newly-revealed stuttering, but it was in a good-hearted way. Snot Rod knew they

weren't doing it to be mean to him, they picked on everyone and they picked on each other. He picked on each of them sometimes.

True friends did that. Friends had to be able to laugh at themselves being made fun of from time to time. And not that he was

"ugly" beforehand but now that the supercharger was taken off of his hood, he looked quite handsome now that his entire face

could be seen for once. He had tested himself on the Strip this morning; as far as his speed went it didn't seem to make him go

any slower with it on his back. Nor did it improve his speed. He also opted for smaller rear wheel tires , just slightly larger than his

front ones, discarding the two monster truck-like beheamoths he rolled on before. Now he wasn't leaning so far down in the front

because of it. There was also another benefit that resulted from the new placement of his supercharger. It forced his front half up

when he took off, causing him to do an impressive wheelie he could hold for several long seconds as he roared down the track. He

would land on all fours, going at the same speed, and rage on. He was able to pop wheelies now, and monopolized that act. None

of the other dragsters could do wheelies.

Doc and Four Wheel both decided to escort him to the tractor pasture because it was such a nice morning, neither had nothing to

do really and Four Wheel's shift didn't start until this evening. Doc wanted to help Prince move in but she insisted on going it alone.

She really had nothing to move; she arrived to the town with just the paint on her back. He didn't think about that until after the

fact. Everyone was still somewhat stunned by it all, just a few weeks ago Doc was this simple country doctor living the single life,

now paired up with a girlfriend. Not just a girlfriend but what had to be the hottest babe on the showroom. He used to be a

hermit, rarely leaving his garage unless someone needed his help, or if there was a case to do before McQueen showed up. He

came out of that loner stage and turned social but stayed a bachleor. Now, he was somebody's MAN. Even he couldn't believe it.

"I NEVER thought I'd see the day when I'd end up with a live-in girlfriend Four Wheel, I tell you." Doc told the escalade. "Well it

happens. When you least expect the love bug to hit, that's when it hits you. That little car loves you Doc. I can tell you that." Four

Wheel spoke in his classic wrangler-Texan style in reference to Prince. "Ya'll make a mighty fine pairing that's for sure." He and Doc

observed Snot Rod interacting with the tractors. He had always been somewhat the odd ball of the Delinquents. For whatever

reason he really was into tractors. He was just one of those city boy types that was touched by nature and country stuff. For the

most part the tractors ignored him as he quietly wandered around them, and even Frank had taken a liking to him. That was, until

Snot Rod tried to speak to him.

"H-hhh—h-h-h-h-h-h-h …You. Y-y-y-y-yy-YOU." Snot Rod was attempting to ask Frank "How are you doing?" but his stuttering was

so severe that he couldn't get past two words. Four Wheel, a transplant from the Lone Star state and growing up on a tractor ranch

outside of Dallas had a good idea of what was about to go down. He knew a thing or two about tractor behavior, in particular

combine tractors. His family had several combine studs. He could tell by the look on Franks face that things were about to go bad.

VERY bad. Snot Rod was still trying to conversate with the combine as if the hulking titan could understand any form of verbal

communication. Snot Rod was trying to give the combine some "baby talk", but Frank was starting to screw up his face like Snot Rod's

presence was begining to bother him. "Oh no…" Four Wheel moaned, now catching Doc's full attention. Doc saw it to. Though not a

country-born soul like Four Wheel, he too had been around tractors as a child growing up. He had an uncle who owned a farm on the

outskirts of Detroit. He, too, saw that look the combines had when they were getting ready to fight a stud for their females—the

tractors.

The noises that Snot Rod, in all of his innocence were making were not being interpreted by Frank as an attempt to "baby talk"

him. In Frank's bovine mind, the jumble of syllables coming out of Snot Rod, as well as the facial expressions he made in his

struggle to talk, was an issued threat. The combine was growing increasingly agitated by the barracuda's presence. Frank

now took the sound's he was making as a challenge to his dominant position as the bull of his herd. He suddenly turned demonic,

bellowing in fury, blade spinning. Snot Rod jumped in terror. Doc and Four Wheel were hollering at him to get out of the fence.

Snot Rod high tailed it out, far ahead of the other two. Frank was not interested in Doc or Four Wheel; it was the barracuda he

wanted. The car had just threatened his position and laid claim to his tractors. And he needed to be put in his place. It was

useless to shout but Doc and Four Wheel did any way, trying any way they could to calm the out of control combine as he

barraged his way right through the fence and down the road after a terrified Snot Rod. All they could do was follow pursuit. Snot

Rod skidded into the Shack where Boost and Wingo were still asleep. His mouth was wide open but no sound came out. They

knew it was him. "Chrysler Snot Rod, it's too early dude." Boost grumbled.

Snot Rod inhaled deeply then spurted fourth an assault of indecipherable letters. "FU! FUC--! FK! F..FUC--!!" He was actually trying

to say "**Frank**" and not the vulgar term for copulation. "You got laid, good for you now GO BACK TO SLEEP." Wingo mumbled loudly.

A sudden and angry bellow jolted him, Boost, and every one else in their garages up. Frank came upon the side where Snot Rod

entered, combine blades scraping angrily against the building's side. Wingo jumped up now wide awake "Oh CRAP!" There was

pandemonium as startled occupants fled the building. Prince heard it and went out to investigate. She decided to act. She darted

up to the combine, her doors outstretched. The minute Frank saw her, he began to calm down.


	26. Laying Claim To Mine I Don't Think So

The large tractor began to regain his composure, momentarily forgetting about his rampage. Doc was on edge. He knew Frank well enough

to know that when he got in these fits, it was best to leave him be and let him go on until he tired himself out. There was another reason

he was antsy. He didn't like the way Frank was eyeballing Prince up. Almost like he was claiming the Lambourghini as one of HIS cow-like

tractors. In a panic, Snot Rod had burst from the side of the building whimpering, stuttering so badly he was stammering. He couldn't even form entire

words. Frank immediately went ballistic on him again, charging straight at him, causing the terrified drag racer to dart back inside. Nearly running Prince

over as he went after him, the combine charged straight for the entrance where he saw Snot Rod vanish, his huge blades whirling furiously. He rammed

one end of it inside the entry way of Wingo's garage where he could see the barracuda cowering behind Wingo. Being the fearless little car that he was

Wingo valiantly stood up to Frank, yelling at him to get out and flinging anything within reach of his wheels at the massive tractor. Commotion filled the

Shack both inside and outside as residents took to surrounding the building, trying to get Franks attention. "Prince NO!" Doc shouted as Prince once again

spun around to Frank's side, distracting him a second time with her wing resembling doors. She didn't seem to understand that Frank was viewing her as

part of a harem. Either that or she didn't care about her safety. If enchanting him with her doors would calm him down she was willing to take that risk.

Frank apparently thought that Snot Rod was now out to get what he had now claimed part of his herd--PRINCE. When he saw the butt-end of Snot Rod

sticking out from behind a pile of boxes in Wingo's apartment he charged again and this time he bore clear through the wall, completely demolishing the

entire north side of the Shack's lower floor. There were screams, yells, and curses as dozens of petrified occupants came screeching out of multi-plex

garage unit, among them Boost, Wingo and Snot Rod. Completely disregarding the other two, Frank leveled his eyes on Snot Rod, who made the mistake

of fleeing in Prince's direction. Frank beat him to it and parked himself right in front of Prince, bellowing with rage. Snot Rod was by now in hysterics,

fleeing through the town with Sheriff in tow trying to get him away from Frank while Prince focused on Frank. She slowly started out of the town with a

much more civilize Frank following her like a love struck animal, moaning pitifully. Doc wasn't having it. This here was HIS "tractor". With a small parade of

vehicles following closely behind Prince led Frank down the road back to his pasture as she talked to him, almost as if she was chastising an unruly child.

"Now that wasn't very nice you know. You scared everybody in the town! Bad Franky!" Her friendly berating was answered by a sorrowful moan and a pair

of almost guilty eyes looking down at her. "I know, I know. What did Snot Rod do to you that was so bad, hm? Come now, I'm sure he didn't mean it.

Now, did he?" Prince went on. Another pitiful moan. "See? I told you I'd come see you again! This was not quite how I planned to do it, but I'm here, see?

Now, are we going to behave??" Prince gleamed at him as she led him into the open pen. He obediently went inside as she quickly turned around him and

went back out, allowing Four Wheel to push up the broken part of the fence while Mater used his tow cable to wrap it into place. "That'll hold him until

construction can get out here and fix this. Provide poor Snot Rod don't return that is." Four Wheel breathed in relief. Prince strolled back over to Doc,

leaning heavily on him for comfort. Doc knew that the huge tractor didn't know any better. Still he couldn't resist the playful teasing. He threw a little

smirk in Frank's direction as if saying "See? I told you she's MINE. Didn't I?"

"What exactly did he do that got Frank so riled up?" Sarge questioned. "Let's just say that, because of how the poor kid speaks now, the way he stutters,

Frank took it as a challenge to his position as dominant male of his herd." Doc commented. Sarge couldn't hide his smile. Snot Rod was at last convinced

by Sheriff, Lightning, Boost and Wingo that Frank indeed was now gone. "Boy, I don't know what you did to that combine but it would behoove yew neva

to do it again." Sheriff told him. "Alll....*t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tt-t...** did. W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w--w-wwhhuuu-u-u-uuu-uuu.." Snot Rod's lips twitched with

every letter that escaped his mouth. He took so long to even move on to the very next letter that all four cars were beginning to lift their windshields up in

anticipation of what he might say. "I..think I know what you're trying to say son. "Frank ain nothin to mess with like that. Just try to be careful how you

talk to him from now on." Sheriff assured him. Snot Rod just nodded. "I think Frank really likes you. He was actually trying to claim you as one of his

tractors." Doc said with a smile. "I'm afraid he can't. I'm already claimed property." Prince winked at him.


	27. Abstinence

Since Doc had been "rediscovered" at the Cup's final three-way race he had been plunged back into the

spotlight even if he didn't ask for it. Everyone wanted to know what happened to him, why he vanished and

never came back, what he had done in his spare time. He revealed some things, kept others private, leaving

others to speculate on his disappearance. It made for good tabloids and he didn't mind at all. This kind of

predation didn't really exist in his early days of fame but he came to understand some time ago that the

world of fame had changed. There were the _papparazzi_, a completely different species of photographers who

lurked around corners and the like; it had become routine to see a few of them around Radiator Springs

looking for either McQueen or Doc. Any one _with_ them likewise was fair game. They were like flies sometimes.

The real media, as in professional journalists from news agencies and the like were nothing like the

papparazzi. Although Doc was willing to do all his interviews for free, they insisted on paying him for them, as

it was professional to do so. Reluctantly, Doc took the money, keeping some while using the rest of it to put

into Radiator Springs where needed. He was happy to know that the sports world never gave up on him and

never forgot him. His name didn't just fade into history as his once-sponsors put it; his name lived on, even

as he struggled to rebuild his life from depression and drugs. So money started to pour in, he even did some

commercials from time to time. Gradually his fortune and face built itself back up and now he could use that to

lavish on his girl. A girl who clearly liked him even when she knew nothing of his famous past.

The rest of the day went smoothely with Prince now settled into her new residence. On his own accord, he

brought up the topic of allowing her to redecorate his garage as she saw fit and she eagerly went for it. She

didn't do too much to it other than put up curtains on his window, a few mats, after she dusted everything.

His home really wasn't all that dusty. It was well-kept other than the bits of cluttered belongings here and

there. Much of it he moved into to an empty back office of his medical practice. She found out that his favorite

color was blue and black-the same as hers. So she decided to coordinate everything to match in a blue and

black theme. She DID have expensive tastes. There was a seamstress in the town who offered her services

to make Prince some specially made curtains from silk imported all the way from Japan They were blue with

heavily embroidered black and gold Egyptian hyrogliphic symbols. The Lambourghini was especially fond of

antiquity items and images. In the middle of the garage was a large round mat, big enough for both her and

the Doc. He had ordered it for her, relishing in being a "sugar daddy". She was worth it. The huge mat was

plush, thick and sturdy, made of the most expensive rubberized foam on the market. It wasn't like Doc

couldn't afford it. It was quite safe to say he was once again rich like his protege Lightning McQueen. He

especially liked the bedding area. Prince was very fond of canopys. From the ceiling hung an enormous

curtain-like thin sheet all black and see through, heavily embroidered. It draped to the floor in an exquisite

pattern around the bed to be shared by him and Prince. The opening was on the side and could be easily

pushed aside to roll on in. It would take some getting used to but he could live with it. His garage had the

look of a mansion inside.

As he and Prince snuggled against each other he noticed her purring. It was exciting him to no end and she

was rubbing up against him like she was encouraging him to make a move. He took this as the perfect

opportunity to talk seriously to her. This had been plaguing him since their first date when he did...what he

did. Ever since he felt somewhat guilty. And he felt even more guilty when he encouraged her to give back

what he had done to her. "I've been meaning to discuss something with you. It's about the physical part of

our romance. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't believe in pressuring a girl into it before she's

ready. And I'm ready." Prince looked at him somewhat confused. Was he not liking the affection she was

trying to show him? "What I'm saying Prince is, I don't believe in THAT....before marrige." She turned up a

windshield, somewhat getting an idea of what he was getting at. "You mean as in us.." she dipped her head

slowly. Then, what was that he did her in his office last night? And until she bit him he sure had no qualms

about what SHE was trying to do! Their first kiss, what was that all about? The show he put on at the Strip

with the corvette? What of the dances they had together? And, he had just talked her into moving in with

him? Where exactly was he going with this? She was serious when she revealed on the dance floor that she

wanted to be with him and him only. It was no "game", so what was all of this? She didn't want to jump to

conclusions because she was not that type. She wanted to hear him out. "I'm old school when it comes to

this sort of thing and what I mean by that is, I really don't believe in pre-marital love..." Doc started. Prince

got defensive now. "Oh, really? Then what was that exactly you did to me in your office, Doc? I don't

understand." her tone was not harsh, but calm, waiting but still held a slightly suspicious edge to it. Doc was

never one to lie. He did not always reveal the truth, per sey, but he would never lie. "What I did to you that

night, Prince, was a reaction out of lust. That wasn't the only reason but it was a sudden spur-of-the-moment

reaction to seeing you, how you looked, as well as impulse feelings I've had since the first time I laid eyes on

you. I don't really regret what I did, _believe me_, but that was a lust thing for me. Something I had pinned up

in me, from the moment I saw you that I had to...get off my side view so to speak." Doc didn't mean to be so

blunt about it but blunt it was. His actions were now confusing Prince.

She looked down, her body jerking in a silent "Tsk." even though her lips didn't move. She didn't know

what to make of this sudden revelation. So basically, he "went down there" to get his freakish fantasy out of

his system. "And when I let you attempt to do the same to me this morning, it was the same thing, it was a

lusting reation. The idea of you doing that to me and me being a MAN, we males like that. It's not common for

a man to refuse that. Now I know in my conviction that it was wrong. I was brought up to abstain until

marrige." "So, you're saying what you did, and what I did, it meant nothing to you." Prince

conceded quietly, her insides crushed. "I didn't say that. Nor do I think that. Ever. Yes it meant something to

me, YOU mean something to me. When I look at you, I see someone I could very well spend the rest of my

life with. Not just something to get my pistons off with. I was raised to repect a woman I really care about,

and part of that upbringing was to refrain until marrige. I know that that is not the norm these days, but I

feel guilty about what went on between us, and were not legally bound yet." Doc never took his eyes off of

her as he spoke. Prince was not sure how to repond. She wasn't really hurt or even angered, but rather

perplexed as she slowly absorbed what he said. He was saying he _respected_ her enough to wait until she

became his wife. Right? Was she supposed to admire that or be offended? He was brought up in a time when

cars simply didn't get it on until marrige and he never quite grew out of that. She couldn't blame him for that.

On the other hand, maybe she was wrong for assuming that he was really to jump her brakes because he

was a guy and she assumed ALL guys were like that. Older or not, why did she think he would be different?

She was so used to cars trying to get it from her she was sure that Doc would eagerly want to get in her too.

She realized what he was telling her. He was willing to wait as long as it took, for her to really be HIS before

he "took it". Took her virginity away. "I'm saying I don't want to just be your first. I want to be your LAST. And I

want it the right way--you as my spouse FIRST--and then be your first and last. There's so much I wanna do

to you, show you. But you have to be ready for it." She lifted her eyes to look at him as he spoke again. Was

he proposing to her now? Or was he indicating that he was just waiting first? Respecting a girl was a rare

thing these days. The sincerity in Doc's face was sharp. "And I can tell, you're not ready for this either--the

physical part of it." He was right and she knew it. She was still quite nervous around him. She couldn't hide

it. "I see. And I understand." she answered sadly. It was sadness mixed with a hint of joy. She lit up.

Yes, he respected her. "Wow. I don't know what to say. I thought that you wanted it that soon. I can respect

your wish to wait. And I appreciate that you feel the same for me. She started to ask him if he was asking

her to marry him but decided against it. She only smiled and turned to leave. She needed some alone time

right now. Doc watched her go. This wasn't his idea of a marrige proposal; he was more traditional than this.

He wanted to give her time to think and then move from there.

"Stupid, how could I be so STUPID? Did I have to be so blunt?" Fillmore, Sally, Flo, Sarge, Lightning, DJ, Griff,

and Red were gathed by the Cafe sociallizing when they noticed Doc roll up, grumbling furiously to himself.

"Doc?" Questioned Fillmore. The look in Doc's eyes told everyone there that this was a "dude moment", as

Fillmore liked to say. He had the look of needing to have a "man" talk. Flo and Sally looked at each other

with the hint and decided to go looking for Prince. Maybe she could use a "girl moment". "Okay Doc, spill it."

Lightning started the conversation once the ladies drove off.


	28. Ok to Wait

"I have a question for each of you. Bear with me because it is not like me to talk about such a private aspect of my life. Call me old-fashioned but I believe in waiting until I'm married to

take...physical possession of my bride. I'm saying I don't believe in pre-marital relations. On a physical level that is. I have nothing against those that do engage in it, it's just not ME. Sarge

you can relate to me, can you?" Doc turned to him. Sarge was around his age group, about ten years his senior. "I sure can Doc. Lemme guess, you're not ready to go there yet with Prince.

She thought you were, is that it?" Sarge finished for him. "Yeah." Doc said quietly. "Look Sarge the only one out of me, you and Fillmore who stayed abstinent when we hung out back then

was YOU. When I was a racer I was unbroken. I went wild in the 60s; you two know that." Fillmore started by Doc stopped him before he could begin: "Yeah, yeah I mellowed out by the 70s…

I got older and wiser and I quit all that stuff. I know this is hypocritical but for the most part it still bothered me to do it and I wasn't married. I know times have changed on that issue, but I'm

still stuck in my ways when it comes to that. I was brought up in a time when it was considered wrong to engage before marriage. I ain sayin it is wrong, it just doesn't feel right to ME. Even

though, I didn't hold out till I tied the knot either." Doc added. "Hey man, ain nothin wrong with that. I mean yeah in this day and age it IS the norm to engage before marriage, everybody's

doin it now. Don't nobody wait till marriage now, that's just how it is for our generation now. To US it's normal to just do it then jump the broom later, but I got mad respect for anybody who

decides to wait till marriage. Ain nothin wrong with waitin. " DJ said. "I don't want her to think that she's just some sort of play thing to me to be at my beckoning call, I told her this and I'm

not sure what to make of her reaction." Doc told him. "I respect her, enough to wait for it, for that moment. I don't think she was upset with me, just more, let down I guess is the way to put

it." "If anything, I would think she would be humbled that you would refrain from her like that when most guys are so eager to go for it. She's probably just stunned that's all. I mean,

seriously Doc, how many of us guys young OR old would really _WAIT_ to engage you know? It's a rare breed for guys to be willing to wait for it when they can find someone who will give it up.

It may not be right but that's the real world. Maybe Prince is just astonished to come across a noble guy like you who is in no rush to make your mark on her so soon. I'm sure in Vegas she

had a lot of cars after her so, was it wrong for her to make that assumption about YOU? Perhaps, but you have to see it from her angle too Doc. There's twice as much pressure on girls to do it

than it is for us." Lightning told him.

I will be honest, when I first met Sally all I was thinking about was how to get under her carriage. I had to work to get to it, but I have to say she doesn't believe in "waiting" either, just like

me, and I'm not so sure I could stay with a lady that wouldn't want to...do it before marriage. I can't go that long with out it. But for you to be willing to hold out for it that says alot about you

Doc. And Sarge too. You guys were brought up in a time when dating was done differently, you went on a date and that was the end of it. Like DJ said, there's nothing wrong with it. Maybe

Prince felt, however unintentionally, that you just wanted to rock her hood quick too." "Maybe." Doc shook his head. He heard a camera lens shutter. Then something caught his eye. It was a

small Honda civic ducking around a cozy cone. Paparazzo. He made a mental note to himself to somehow deal with these pests. "I may have been a bit more straightforward than I intended.

She is so very special to me. I want her to know then it finally happens for her, it's not just some bang job and then it's over." Doc was a bit dismayed that he was speaking so openly to them,

even if they were all men. "Especially considering that she's never been wi-" Doc cut his remark short realizing he had already said far too much. He really didn't mean to let that slip out. It

was too late now. They were all looking at him. And being boys like him, they all knew what he was referring to. "Is she a VIRGIN?" Lightning and DJ asked in unison. Even Sarge seemed a bit

bewildered by it. As sexy as Prince was, he couldn't see how it was possible in THIS day and age. Gals didn't believe in "saving nothing" nowadays. "Wha-aat?" Fillmore drew out also dismayed.

"Not that there's anything wrong with it she just doesn't look-WOW." Griff sputtered out. "So she's never done it, ever." DJ wanted to make sure. "No she hasn't." DJ and Lightning eyed each

other. "She's rare indeed if she's still chaste. " Sarge said bluntly. Red who was never known to say one word had decided he had had enough. Turning an even brighter shade of red, he

decided to drive off. "Hey there's nothing wrong with being THAt either." DJ put in. "Too bad I guess more of us can't be like that, and I don't know what she was waiting on, no offense Doc,

but it's all good if she is one. It just means you'll have that much more of an impact on her her when you finally DO engage her." "THAT'S real love Doc, if you're willing to abstain from her

until you make her your wife man. And she's saving it just for you? THAT'S love man." Fillmore cooed. "Yeah and how would you know? It was YOU'RE generation that started that

promiscuous crap." Sarge cut in. "We preached love to the masses man. And don't even try it, Papa Sarge, because you were right there singing songs with us." Fillmore interjected. "And

that's _ALL_ I did. Yeah the likes of you preached love of sex, drugs and rock-n-roll." Sarge retorted bitterly. Although he and Fillmore had been life-long friends, he was firmly convinced that it

was the hippie sixties that was responsible for the demoralizing state of proper values in today's society. He admired **_some_** of the hippies' traits. "Seriously Doc, she'll understand. And

appreciate you for it. I wouldn't read too much into it." Lightning told him.

Flo and Sally had caught up with Prince at the local auto store where she confided in them. "I'm not angry, I'm not hurt. I don't know what I feel. Somewhat chastised I suppose? I thought

that was what he wanted. Maybe I should not have, but I'm so used to being approached like that. I don't want to rush either but I don't want to make him wait." "Honey, understand this,

when a man tells you that he cares about the real you, and not just about your design, THAT is a man worth having. Doc comes from a time when it was just the proper thing to do, wait till

you tie the knot. That belief dies hard with those like him. Now days there AIN'T NO point in saving nothing, you hear me? Ramone and I didn't wait. But again we're talking about the sixties

here, that's when everything just exploded out in the open, you know what I'm sayin? But honey there ain nothin wrong with "waitin"." Flo told her. "Not at all. In times like this when

most just want to get their kicks it's commendable that there are some who feel they don't have to go there to have a good time." Sally patted Prince's side. She and Prince were somewhat

close in age, Sally was in her 20s. Both she and Prince knew there were cars in their age bracket who didn't believe in pre-marital romancing although they were rare. It was not that Prince

didn't believe in it. It just never happened to her before because she had never met anyone she was willing to try it with. Except for Doc. She was in the check out stand with Sally when they

both noticed a tabloid paper. There in the upper left hand corner was a photoshopped picture of Doc Hudson with a superimposed graphic of a flying saucer hovering nearby. Big white letters read

_**"The Real Reason Why The Fabulous Hudson Hornet Left Racing:" -"Extraterrestrials kidnapped me in 1954 and held me hostage all those years!"**__*** Claims of bizarre**_

_** experiments**__*** Alien torture**__*** Says he went insane as a result"**_ -It was a typical auto supermarket TABLOID newspaper. Did these photographers have nothing better to do? It was

funny to look at though. Prince laughed silently while Sally shook her head. They both knew that Doc liked to collect tabloid articles on him as much as legitimate works. He too got a kick out

of the tabloids. So they got the paper for him and headed back to the Springs.


	29. Chant

Enjoying his manhood bonding with the likes of his kind, Doc observed the bustling activity of his quaint town. This was the way Radiator Springs

was supposed to be. It was fully renovated with old historic landmarks and buildings fully restored. Even businesses that had once gone out of

business had been repainted, restored and were back in operation. The colors were well-suited for a desert-like dwelling yet still captivated that

magical touch of ages past. Seeing tourists about was now a daily scene to Radiator Springs. Despite it being a tiny town, there was much to do

here. Though a desert city, there was a small valley not far away where many visitors liked to do their four wheeling or simply take in nature.

With it was a small river. While Sarge and Fillmore argued on about the sixty's detrimental contributions to social change they captured the full

attention of the others in their circle, each siding with one vehicle or the other. With Doc feeling better about his former discussion they now

turned to the matter at hand of Sarge vs. Fillmore. Doc was too busy watching a couple across the street at Luigi's tire store to pay any attention.

They had their small son with them, a little car, though it was hard to tell what kind of car he was exactly. Vehicles were generally born with no

protective metal plating, but just their frames. So they were practically naked for the first year or so. You could see their wires and all. When

children were about 8 months old their exo-skeletal frames began to take on a distinctive shape, anything from a small compact car to a truck,

van, or whatever. So it was not uncommon for parents who were both cars to produce an SUV or a truck, or vise versus. Or one parent was a

car, one a mini van, and they could produce a kid that resembled one or the other, or may not resemble either of them. Nature always overrode

the style of the mother and father; the baby would take on a certain shape which dictated what it was most likely going to be. It was around this

time that parents decided to get their infants fitted for an actual car body. How the little one's shape frame developed determined the kind of car

or truck design he or she would be. This was also when a baby's first wheels were attached. It was around this time from 10 months to 1 year

that most vehicles took on the form they would carry with them for the rest of their lives, simply upgrading each year to a newer version of that

model as they grew. By adolescence most would keep their latest year's design as their final one. Doc still found it amazing how cars

went from being wooden carts rolling on wooden spoke wheels way back to full metal-and-engine burning wonders. Scientists would credit that

wonder to the glory of evolution. For Doc, it was a wonder of God. Doc didn't exactly buy into the crap that cars "crawled out of a pile of lightning

struck tree branches in prehistoric times, miraculously became glued together by a bunch of atoms" somehow, developed a mentality and started

roaming about converting leaves to oil by primitive means. He had no animosity for those who held that view. He just believed what the majority

of the population believed: there was some higher power at work here that made all this, all of THEM, come to be. He was not very religious, but

he was brought up like most of the world, to believe in the Almighty. On his dad's side there was another term for Him: The Great Spirit. Also

known as The Great One. Or The Protector. He knew where his ancestors came from and he refused to believe that they were slivers of

splintered sticks that suddenly jumped up and wrapped themselves together. Or were stone slabs carved from volcanoes who suddenly came

alive, then stumbled about aimlessly on wobbly stone wheels grunting as a primitive means of communication.

He grinned to himself at the humor of it all, science's explanation of such things but the smile quickly faded when he was the couple emerge from

Ramone's with their infant in his first true body. They had chosen red. There was something about that color that Doc couldn't stand. It was

evident what the little car now was too: a newer version of the VW Beetle. Doc shut his eyes, shaking his head. The little boy was cute, but that

wasn't it. His eyes slowly blanked out into a hundred-mile gaze past the kid as memories started coming back to him. Standing there at the train

tracks with the fluids and oils that were not his splattered all over him. He blinked casually and then inhaled. He had to leave. Now. "Thank you

gentlemen for your conversation. I really needed that." He told the group, and then left. He made his way out to Willy's Butte where the sun was

now setting. An elaborately beaded band hung around his entire body, under him and secured at the top. Two sets of feathers adorned one side

near his side view mirrors. This headband was a treasured heirloom to generations of paternal grandfathers. His father believed that if he spoke

to the Great One, his comfortor, He would comfort him. He sought comfort right now. Prince had seen him leaving the town and decided to follow

him, and saw how he was dressed. Yes, she was concerned.. She quietly made herself scarce behind a huge boulder flanked by a

saguaro cactus and watched Doc. There was a small and rather dangerous winding road that went all the way up to the top of Willy's Butte

flattened rock slab, and Doc made it to the top before he stopped, almost right on the edge. Overlooking the plateau below, he drew in a deep

breath as if meditating. The setting sun caused his figure to become a dark sillouhette against the orange sky, and the feathers dangling from the

sides of his head added to the effect. _"Yah, yah, HEY-eyyy, __Loi-iiiiiii, YA-ahhh, YA-ahhhYA-ahhh yah, yah-aaaaahhhh, HEY-eyyyy."_

He began to bay in the unmistakeable chanting of Native American Pow Wow.

It was so ethereal, his voice. His vocals echoed in a bewail of lament-like howls, his front wheels outstretching in front of him as if imploring on

some presence to make itself known to him. Prince was blown away as Doc kept his eyes shut, hitting a range of high-pitched falsettos deep in

his throat before the timbre of his tone dropped to a lower level. She had always found other cultures fascinating, and she didn't know that Doc

was a "native", or had native roots. It was impossible to tell a car's roots from looks alone, but some could be distinguished by their voices like

Flo and Luigo. Doc always had some sort of "countrified" accent like he might have come from the deep south, or possibly up north, but she didn't

know that he was a native. She only guessed this because it was highly unusual for non-Native Americans to chant like this. Those who weren't

simply didn't do it. For them to do so was viewed as insulting to all native-born tribes, for them pow wow song and chant was sacred. Outsiders

could participate in the pow wow rituals as long as they took the roles very seriously. These were not performances done in "costumes". They

came from the soul of the chanter, a time-held ritual of calling on The Protector, it was not a "show". Doc threw every part of his body into the

singing, going rigid as he stretched his front half out over the cliff, almost like he was pleading to the clouds in the sky.

Not that Prince could tell the difference, as it all sounded similar, but he was chanting in a universal tone used by most tribes which consisted of

largely sounds. Languege-wise he spoke both Uto-Aztecan and Celtic, both very scarce dialects. So scarce, that neither was a documented

languege now. Very few were left who could interpret or talk either, Doc being one of those handful. He had learned both as a small child and

perfected both as a hobby growing up. He learned both primarily to honor his parents. Doc was born in Detroit, Michigan to an Irish-

bred mother and a Commanche Indian father . It was his father's heritage who spoke Uto-Aztecan. His mother died while birthing him, he learned

was a Celt, in particular Irish-born. She immigrated to America when she was small and proudly declared herself American but never forgot her

native roots. Doc was fiercely proud of both sides of his family tree. He claimed to be neither full-blooded Irish nor Commanche; he couldn't. He

was a mixture of both, was honored to be of both, and more importantly, he was American first and foremost. He was born in Michigan

and raised, but learned all that he could about the heritages of his parents. This, what Doc did now, reflected the pride of his

half Indian heritage. Sometimes, he came to this rock and sang in Celtic, his voice howling in a pleasant European-like tone. Other times, he just

sat and took in the beauty of nature. Few people knew that Doc was Irish-Commanche by blood. He seldom revealed this part of him, he seldom

felt the need to. He was by no means ashamed to. He was all the way proud of his lineage, he was just not the type to broadcast it to the world.

Doc found this singing to be soothing to him when something was on his mind. It was breathtaking to watch him, and the Lambourghini tried to

go back in time for a moment to picture a great Indian chief, a god-like wagon in full headdress and all, standing where Doc was, chanting at the

sky like Doc was doing. His singing died when he opened his eyes and spotted Prince watching him. She looked sheepishly at him. "I hope I

wasn't disturbing you." She pulled out. "No, not at all." Doc met her halfway. "So, I didn't know you hadNative American in you." She said quietly.

"You can say 'Indian'. That term doesn't offend me like it does some others. Yes, I am partially that is. The other half of me is of Irish stock. To the

gears sweetheart." Doc assured her. "May I ask what kind of Indian? Or what tribe I guess?" Prince was eager to know all about this new page

of Doc. "Commanche on my old man's side, my 'siren' - born in Ireland." Doc stated rather proudly as he and Prince started off down

the butte. Then he looked a bit sad. "Prince, about our conversation early, please don't think-" "Hey, I'm not. I respect what you said, and I'm

quite flattered that you find me worth the wait. " Prince interrupted him before he could finish. She pulled up, planted a kiss on his grill and backed

away, watching his bar-like lips turn upwards. He was relieved. "That's not exactly a kiss." he growled teasingly as he advanced forward, forcing

her into a real deep kiss. She giggled between them.

**Back at the town:**

"We thought you might like this." Prince presented the tabloid back at the garage. "Kidnapped by aliens. Lovely." Doc indeed got a kick out of the

tabloid heading. He understood that it was the norm of celebrity life, even though he wasn't exactly a big name A-list actor, that fact that he was

a racing legend was enough to make him honorably placed on the front cover of America's best tabloid: The Scallop. It was a harmless

newspaper; few stars payed attention to it yet unbelievably, much of the public enjoyed it. Most sound minds knew that most of the stuff in the

Scallop was hardly true, it was purely for reading entertainment. And honestly it did make for some good reading. An old saying went in show

business: any publicity was better than no publicity. Prince left to help out Flo. She now had two more permanent helpers; Flo was so impressed

by the work the twins did when they volunteered their help in cleaning up the café that she offered both full-time waitress positions. The

girls wanted to work for free; they didn't feel right taking money from some one they saw as a mother figure. But Flo wasn't having it; she

didn't believe in having people work for her for free. In any case, the twins agreed to join Flo's small workforce of helpers. Doc too got some help,

a new medical resident arrived, at his request to Radiator Springs. It turned out that the red ferrari that Lightning McQueen referred to Luigi's

shop was a doctor. Although much younger, he had almost as much experience as Doc, and like Doc, was skilled at almost everything. That

ferarri's name was Dr. Michael Schumacher, same field as Doc. He was now Doc's fellow helper, not an assistant but held the same degree of

respect and workload. Doc was not his supervisor but his equal partner; the two ran Doc's clinic together. In fact, it was no longer just Doc's clinic;

it had been changed to read aptly the following: **"H. Hudson, M.D/ M. Schumacher**, **M.D. General Practice" **Doc was happy for the help because

he was being overwhelmed. The town has gotten too big for just one medic to handle everything. And anyway Michael was as well-loved and

welcomed as Doc was. The Italian-born surgeon fell in love with Radiator Springs. He was cute, young and friendly. Yes, Radiator Springs had

grown even more.


	30. Let's Just DO It

The unique couple huddled close to one another. "You chanting like that was so lovely Hudson." Prince pondered. "Why thank you. It helps clear my mind

sometimes. And what I mean by clear my mind, it had nothing to do with the discussion you and I had. I just go to Willy's from time to time and do that,

to be alone." "I understand. I've always found folk singing intriguing. When I was in Phoenix I had a buddy who was Cherokee I think. She invited me to

a Pow Wow ceremony. It was very beautiful. I was one of the guests of honor." "Oh yeah; it you get invited to a Pow Wow it's considered a big honor to

native tribe that is, regardless of the nation, it's an honor. If a non-native is invited." Doc told her. That made her feel special, just like the thought of

him not wanting to do it in advance did. Most wouldn't wait. Now that she had a boyfriend, she wasn't sure she wanted to wait. She knew there was none

other than Doc for her. He was her other half. Doc must have been thinking the same thing. "Who am I kidding, Prince. I'm here next to a gorgeous girl

and I'm trying to wait. I can't wait. I can't. He turned around and looked at her. "Marry me Prince. Right now." She was completely floored. This was so

soon, so sudden. She had barely acquainted herself with him. Doc went into a rambling speech before she could even respond. "You barely know me. I

barely know you. We've only met about a month ago but I've never been more sure in my life. There IS no other in this old heart but you. I was brought

up to court a girl first for a while but courtship be damned. You are in my head day and night girl. I can't stop thinking about you. To hell with all this

patriarchal crap, upstanding judge and doctor of the community. Right now I'm a car in love who is going crazy because he can't LOVE the car he loves

because of his convictions." With that he began kissing her passionately. "But I thought you wanted--" Prince tried to break off the kiss to ask him. She

was confused. What was all of that talk this morning. "I don't care. I don't care. *kiss* Screw it all. Who am I kidding; *kiss* I can't wait anymore. I don't

have the strength to wait." Doc pecked her lips fervently, stopping in between just long enough to utter each sentence. *kiss* "It ain't wrong--not if you

marry me. Yes I CAN wait. I would never betray you either if I got the urge. I've gone this long and it hasn't bothered me, but it's torturing me to do so.

It's not just that. I WANT YOU to be my WIFE. I want you to share your world and your trials with me. I see you bearing my child, my children, and no

other. Even if you can't give me life, I don't care." Doc vented in a rambling babble then ceased, waiting for her answer. "Marry me Prince, right now."

NOW??? But what about a ceremony? Guest list? Flowers and the like. Doc stuck his front wheel in a corner into a black velvet chest and retrieved an

opulent hubcap. It was a 19 karat white gold hubcap with champagne diamonds and Indian turquoise stones set in it in the pattern of a rose. It was his

mother's engagement hubcap. His father gave it to him before he passed, telling his son to save it for the one he loved, to pass to her. Doc snapped the

hubcap gently into place on Prince's left front wheel. She was speechless. This was a huge step, marriage. But there was no doubt in her mind where she

stood with him. Doc was the first and only lover she had ever known. There was no other. And from studying the intenseness of his expression, there was

no questioning of him proposing out of lustful desire. His face spoke volumes. Like he was ridden with guilt, then tried to right the situation by refraining,

then finally saying the hell with it. He wanted it, couldn't exactly wait for it but he wanted it the right way. Plus he wanted this to be, her and him.

Permanently. "I promise you at a later date we can have the full-blown wedding thing in a church like you want it, brides maids and all. That can be

arranged, but let's do this. Right now. I have a friend who lives in Yuma that's a priest; he can marry us tonight. We can leave now, get married and be

back by this evening. By tonight." Doc pushed her, praying for the right response. Prince's mouth just hung open but she had already given him his

answer. She didn't know it but she was nodding her head up and down fervently with the brightest smile yet. She started bouncing on his tires in

excitement as Doc stood there, grinning crookedly as usual. "YES." she told him in the most feminine whisper yet. "Yes. I will be your wife, Hudson.

Tonight." She wanted to weep with joy as he brought a wheel up to his face and shook his head. "Oh Prince, I feel like a king right now. " he told her.

They slipped out in broad daylight amid the usual bustling of the town, but no one payed much attention, knowing by now that they were together. They

would be in for a real surprise tonight. It took only an hour and a half to arrive to Yuma on the Arizona/California border. Doc had an old friend who lived

here, a Baptist minister at a mission on the outskirts of the city. Although Doc was a judge, by law he couldn't marry himself. Someone else, another judge

or a priest had to perform the ceremony, and the law also required two eyewitnesses. Doc pulled two passersby off the streets who agreed to take part in

the ceremony. The two trucks happily obliged. The priest was a well-kept black 1962 rolls royce who, like Doc had his emblems and headlights situated in

such a way that it made him look like glasses adorned his features. He read the marital rites of both parties. Doc said his "I do." and waited for Prince to

say hers. As soon as she did he kissed her long and hard, not even bothering to wait for his friend to say "You may now kiss your bride." He and the two

grinning witnesses eyed each other. The priest cleared his throat. "Need I remind yew, Doc Hudson that yew ARE, in a house of worship..??" he said

sternly. "Sorry." Doc confessed chagrined. "I heay'h bye....pronounce yew, Mister AND Misses, Doc Hudson."


	31. Give Yourself To Me

**Warning: I will only say that when Doc refers to "going both ways" he's referring to a double act that I'd rather not go into detail about. I'll let the readers use their imaginations to guess what that act is. Hint--no, it's not a bisexual thing (laughs cynically).**

The drive home was quick, with the two in a most anticipated mood. Especially Prince. She still could not believe she was now a Mrs. Yes, she

could believe it. But still. "I can t BELIEVE it! I m married!" she gleemed, lifting up her front left wheel to admire her engagement cap Doc placed on

her. He made a note to himself to still purchase her a solid wedding hubcap, but she seemed not notice at all; to her what she had on now was

close enough to a marital mark. What she wore right now was priceless, having been in Doc's family on his father's side since the late 1800s

when the first automobiles began taking on their steel fixtures. It was tradition to pass the hubcap on to the eldest son to give to a future wife

assuming that was that his mother preceeded him in death. If she was still alive when her oldest son wed well, she obviously kept it on until she

died; the groom had to buy his own in that case. But this one was priceless, the one Doc gave her, given it's long history and it sentimental value.

It was his mother's favorite jewelry piece understandably, having belonged to his grandmother and great grandmother. An Earl from England

visited America in 1897 He was related to Britian's royal family but loved the culture of the American Indians. He did metal smithing as a hobby and

originally made the hubcap while in the United States as a present for his sister, the Queen of Great Britian. But when he befriended the

Commanche nation in 1898 he presented the hubcap, the first of it s kind to the Commanche Chief's wife as a wedding gift, and it had been in

Doc's family since. Yes, Doc descended from a line of CHIEFS. At least two of his ancestors were chiefs. His own father was the grand son of a

famous Commanche chief. To know that she sported a piece of bling on her tire fit for royalty and chieftesses was almost too much for Prince as

she proudly showed off the hubcap to her own self. She was wearing something that had been touched by ROYAL hands, had been worn by

lovely wagons in their full leather-and-feather ensemble and flapper-like model Ts. Yes it felt good. And it had been on the wheel of

Doc's mother. She felt honored to wear it, as well as now feeling the responsibility of guarding it for the heirloom that it was. No, she didn t want

a wedding cap . She was quite happy with what she sported. "I am MRS. DOC HUDSON. A wife. "I still can t believe it. Oh Doc, how does it feel to

be married? " She almost sang out to him withan outstretched wheel. "It feels GREAT!" Doc called out to her as she unintentionally sped up. He

was as surprised as she was, but he never showed it. No, he never thought he'd see the day when he would end up married. He had all but

given up on it. And now here he was with this vivacious young car sprinting around him, somebody he now called wife . It was getting dark but

many cars were still out because it was far too early to go to sleep. Hardly anyone noticed the couple s arrival as they swiftly made their way

straight to Doc s garage. No, THEIR garage. Prince burst in first, expecting the two to immediately settle down at least, collect their excitement,

perhaps head over to Flo s and break the news over a quart of oil, spend some social time first. NOT.

Doc had _other plans._

Prince breathed in deeply as she smiled, still in the corner where she rolled up. "Oh, Doc, this is the happiest day of my LI-IIIIFFFFFEE?!" Her eyes

shot open as she found herself being lifted literally up off the floor by the back end and shoved, quite unceremoniously, into the wall next to her.

And rather roughly at that but it was not enough to hurt her. To be sure it was very unexpected. Doc had shoved his face under her rear side so

much so that her back tires lost contact with the surface. Her back half of her abruptly came up off the floor at such a tilted angle that her mouth

was nearly being mashed into the floor in front of her. As soon as she felt herself being undignifiably lifted off the floor she felt his tongue diving

straight into her. It was so fast, so sudden she really didn t know what happened. One instant she came inside the garage raving

on about this being the happiest day of her life, the next second she felt her tail end going up into the air and a steamy tongue penetrating her

nether parts. "Wha-? AHH! Doc--!" . She wasn t able to form any words at all because every deep thrust of that wonderful oral organ of his sent

the front half of her smashing up against the pile of books and boxes in the corner. Each time he dove in with a furious lick he shoved her body

harder and harder into the pile, not caring that some of the boxes and books were now raining down upon her. The books were not heavy and

the boxes were empty, they were cause for little concern. His mouth was doing the real damage. Her grill was now pressed so hard up against

the wall that the side of her face was being squashed into a distorted mess of ecstasy and shock.

He didn't seem to care that he was on the verge of almost rolling her over on her side, as he pumped his face harder into her body she was

gradually being tilted onto her side, but still with her back tires off the floor. He stretched his front tires out to keep her back ones wide apart,

effectively preventing her from trying to pin his head between them. This way, he had full access to torment her at will without allowing her even

one inch of trying to grip his head. She was completely at his mercy. Try as she might, she couldn t keep from making noises. It felt too good to

keep quiet and Doc didn't like quiet females. That was his one pet peeve during intimacy. He would see to it; she WOULD scream for him. He

assaulted her with yet another savage round of vicious licking that sent her spiraling into vocal break down. She was loud, moaning, crying out; to

Doc she sounded just as she did in his dream of her. She whimpered in between each strangled breath, almost like a puppy and then released it

in a long choking wail. This went on for nearly forty-five minutes because he would deliberately back off when she was close, begging him to let

her release. He did this repeatedly, clearly getting a kick out of knowing she was so close to releasing in his throat before stopping, leaving her to

suffer and buck her rear end in an attempt to finish her climax, as if grinding her self against thin air would make her achieve her goal. To him, It

was amusing to watch. It had been a long time for Doc since he had engaged, but he was experienced, unlike her. After what seemed like an

eternity he finally allowed her the privllige of letting go as he literally tried to suck the oil completely out of her. She convulsed in a fit, almost

screaming.

By now, other cars could hear the faint screaming coming from Doc's garage. She hadn't even recooperated from the last episode when Doc got

into position. Without skipping a beat, his thick extension came out of his tail pipe and pressed against Prince s end bumper. He mounted

dilligenty almost on top of her, pinning her carriage-first to the floor, his front wheels cradling her in an embrace. She could feel him pressing hard

against her, denting her pan underneath as she felt the large mass that was his emerging coil pushing against her. He felt huge. "Do you trust

me?" he whispered. "Yes-AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!" Prince's answer morphed from a coy yes into a pained shriek, replaced by heavy

breathing as Doc gently pushed in. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. Try to relax my love. The more you do so, the less pain there will be. It will

hurt you. I'm quite....bestowed." Doc whispered to her from above. She couldn't see it but he was also grinning. But his grin was not out of

mockery, it was purely out of the deep emotion he felt for his new bride. He wanted her to enjoy this night. Flattened against the floor, Prince

tried to and let out another agonized yelp as she felt him going in deeper. Then his engine began to rev. Low the first few times, like he was

taking it slow on her. He was. He could feel her tensing up around him, fighting not to be too loud. "As if you're afraid you will be heard." he

growled almost threateningly, then licked her sideview. "Let them hear you. LET them. I want them to hear how much I love you."

He sensed the apprehension. That lump under her carrige which was part of him he would use to penetrate her..it felt so large. "Release it. I

don't care if they hear us, hear you. MOAN for me Prince." Doc muttered hungrily near her side view. "Let it go, give yourself to me. Give IN to

me." he growled lovingly. His powerhouse throttle sent vibrations ricocheting all over Prince's frame inside and out. He was going to have to be

careful with her but he knew what he was doing. Unlike her, this was hardly his first time. He revved again, this time harder and the pure

exhilaration from his roaring body engulfed Prince like a tornado. He was hot, his systems murderously working hers as his

internals connected into hers. She panted hard, moaning, suddenly crying out to the point of shrieking each time he suddenly revved up. It wasn't

from agony, it was from pleasure. It was pure, unadulterated PLEASURE. He kissed her side panels as he slowly began to grind into her, revving

softly with each careful thrust. Stealthily he had begun rolling her over until she was almost on her back but propped up against the wall in a

leaning position. He never disconnected himself from her as he methodically flipped her over, carefully positioning himself on top of her exposed

underside. Partially lying on top of her and partially holding himself up with his front tires, he pressed his undercarrige hard against hers, his unit

warming furiously with a sudden blast of his engine. A deep thrust of his lower region accompanied the roar. It was a bit harder this

this time, and it was painful. He drove his large, snake-like jack cord even deeper into her open shaft, and it swelled from arousal. It latched onto

the inside of her muffler and sealed shut while she winced with a yelp. Doc now set a slow and deep pace as he timed his thrusts accordingly,

causing Prince's entire frame to shake violently from his savage engine. A separate line from him also connected to her oil pan and it too injected

her with a malestrom each time Doc's overwhelming horsepower revved up. This was the real Doc Hudson, a presence who in the height of

passion became a sort of Dr. Jeckyll. Deadly serious with no hint of "joking" in his tone whatsoever, he started talking dirty to her. "Remember

when you told me on our first kiss, when I asked you about your orientation? And one of the things you said to me was 'you don't go both 

ways'?" his tone was soft and fatherly, but had a severely dominant streak to it.

And he was _NOT_ referring to her "not being into males AND females". His warped mind was referring to the _double penetration_ he was now forcing

on her body. She realized now she had, in essence, married a bonafide _freak_. This was the real Doc. The part of him that was embedded in her

muffler pushed even deeper, followed by his jack that connected to her pan slowing digging further into her as well. THIS is what he meant by "go

both ways". "Well tonight, you will TAKE IT 'both ways'." He added sensuously as he continued deep kissing her side view. She knew

exactly what he meant by this statememt. He meant that not only was she taking it the "normal" way in her oil pan but she was "taking it up the

muffler" as well. His talking was so foul, so disgusting and it sounded so hot. He was an expert in perfecting dirty talk into a turn-on. Prince was

getting hot and bothered listening to his obcene description and it had her trembling under him. The feel of him invading both openings of her

body underneath was insane. It felt so nasty to feel him in her "other end" by her pan and yet it felt so good and so right. Yes, it hurt but the

pleasure outweighed the discomfort of his size. His interior cologne clashed beautifully with her own perfumed body, and intensified with the heat

he was giving off. Their mixed fragrances permeated the air around them adding to the eroticism of it all. All sorts of pleasurable sensations

infested her with thrust of his body.

**Boy, was she loud.**

Fillmore and Sarge both emerged from their respective residences and threw each other bewildered glances. As did the Delinquents, Flo, Ramone,

Griff and several tourist cars nearby. Lightning and Sally were standing gape-mouthed in the direction of Doc s garage. They didn't get it, any of

them. That discussion Doc had this morning with his man pals, what was that all about? And now this? Flo and Sally exchanged shocked looks as

well. Everyone wanted to be nosy and sneak peaks over the garage windows, not that they could see because of the curtains, but they knew it

was none of their business. As vocal as Prince was, and as loud as Doc s engine was, it was quite obvious what was going on. No longer able

to contain his composure, Boost made a run for it back inside of Flo's cafe , using Wingo for support. Both were struggling not to laugh out loud,

using one of their front wheels to vainly cover their mouths. They weren't the only ones. "What in blazes is he DOING to her???" Sarge

questioned. "What was with that talk we had with him this morning?" Fillmore asked him.

Prince wailed shamelessly into the night.


	32. Morning Afterglow

**Note to anyone: I've never been pregnant so I don't know the deal with morning sickness. I don't know if symptoms show up a few weeks or a few months after conception. Since these are cars, not humans, I'm just going along with the idea that cars start showing morning sickness signs HOURS after getting "knocked up". So, you can guess where this is leading.**

**  
Enjoy.**

Prince squirmed painfully about. She discovered how stiff she was as she tried to rise up on her wheels. Her back ached. Her back end throbbed. Yet

strangely, she felt exhilirated. She hurt all over, but in a bizarrely _good_ sort of way. Doc was already awake and looking down at her, smirking. Compared

to her he was somewhat of a Goliath, his frame simply made him look much taller and because she was designed so low to the surface. "Good morning

Beautiful Lady." That was his new nickname for her. "Good morning." she returned with a sheepish expression. She had given up her self to him, he took

it, violated it, claimed it, whatever one chose to call it. She felt a mixture of relief, contentment, much embarrassment, and joy. Along with alot of

discomfort but she had absolutely no regrets whatsoever. Yes, he took it, he got it, he deflowered it, and now claimed it and it was the best feeling in the

world for her. She now saw why cars made such big deal out of engaging each other. It really WAS incredible. That is, if done with the right one for the

right reasons. She had been around some who spoke of their least thrilling moments during an intimate connection who couldn't wait for it to be over. No

thrill in it whatsoever because either one partner rushed through it or didn't know what he or she was doing. Or one simply didn't care about their lover's

needs as long as he was satisfied. Went until he got off then left her hanging to finish herself off.

There were those who wanted the bragging rights of being known as the one who got to break in the likes of Prince by feeding the naive girls a bunch of

love talk, popping it and then dumping her after doing so. Those who thought if they finally gave in and let that suitor be the lucky first he would stick

around. Instead they were branded as another piece of bumper that had been done in, and somehow should feel "honored" that they now got to

experience "the act" with that particular vehicle, as if being introduced to "the act" was enough to justify being cast aside afterwards. Then, there were

the awful cases of those forced to engage against their wills. And it wasn't limited to just females although the majority of those victims tended to be so.

Male cars, rare it may be, too could be subjected to the humiliating spectacle of forced connection if overpowered by an assailant stronger than them. In

such instances where sex was forced on one, it certainly was no "thrill". And force-connecting was no doubt painful for the receiver who was too terrified

to be "aroused". There was nothing intimate about rape. Prince was lucky. She lost her innocence to someone who didn't just see her as an object of

affection. An old car willing to wait it out if he had to but preferred not to, choosing to marry her instead so he could have at it. Even if he hadn't known

her long, he still wanted to do it, in his mind, the "moral way"--marriage first. He was as tender as could be but she had no doubt he could be rough when

he chose. She only felt a forth of his power last night, and that still left her trembling beside him. Yes he did hurt like the dickens but that was due to her

nervousness and his size. Being female she had certain areas underneath her that were pliable metal and it felt like he had dented the inside of her

components to smithereens; metal couldn't exactly "stretch" but she certainly felt like she had been stretched. she was definitely sore. He had bent her

back axles in ways she thought impossible, she wasn't that flexible even onstage. The way he took control and dominated her last night; it was just raw.

Right now she was paying for it with every agonizing shift of her body. And she had NO regrets. The sensation of Doc inside her still had her shaking from

the after effects. It was the odd occurrence known as the afterglow. Her slight embarrassment came from all the noise she created last night, compared

to him. He was generally quiet during lovemaking, hissing or softly cursing under his breath during the process as his peak built up, releasing it in a heavy

pant, but that was it. She on the other hand...she breathed deeply and leaned against him as she went to stand up on her tires. Doc made no attempt to

hide his observations as she moved, noting the stiffness in her. He couldn't help his growing smirk. Really he wanted to jump her trunk again. But the girl

needed to have a break. She was kept up all night by a relentless groom who would only allow her to rest long enough to catch her breath. He brought

her to peak at least three times, all of which were triggered together. He peaked each time with her. It would take a while for her to adjust to this; if he

kept it up she wouldn't be able to drive herself. Prince wobbled as she rose up and kissed him on the cheek. "My love, good morning. I was thinking..this

hubcap, it's far to precious for me to wear it constantly. To me this is more of a special occasion piece. When we go out and the like. I'm the guardian of it

now. But, I don't want you to feel that you have to buy me a "real" wedding cap. I'm very happy with this one, I just don't wish to wear it constantly

given it's historical value. You said your mother only wore this on special occasions. So too, shall I." Prince told him as she gingerly placed the gleaming

engagement cap back into its magnificent black velvet case. "Understood. But like it or not, it's only fitting for you to have a cap on your wheel. I will see

to that." Doc insisted. She wouldn't argue with him. She nodded. "So, how do you feel?" "Very sore. Very happy, warm inside. At peace. Very grateful

that my journey led me here to this place...to you." Prince turned to look at him. Doc didn't know what to say to that. He felt the same way; he was glad

she came here to try to kill herself; he never would have known she existed.

Residents were deliberately loitering near Doc's garage in an attempt to not look suspicious but they were idiots if they thought that the newly wed

couple was that dumb. They could see the shadows on the outside; they knew they--she rather--had been heard last night. Doc and Prince both emerged

together. Fillmore, Lightning, the twins, DJ, Flo and Ramone all hanging out nearby trying to look normal. Prince tried her hardest to cruise in a

straight line but her back tires rebelled against her. And they wobbled. Eyes shifted towards each other. The couple politely greeted everyone and then

decided to break the news. "Everyone, Prince and I are married. We went to Yuma yesterday. We eloped. This here is my wife now." It was so silent a fly

could have been heard peeing. Flo was first to come out of her daze and she fixed Doc with a nasty glare. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YA'LL ELOPED?! NOT

EVEN THINK ABOUT A WEDDING FOR YOUR NEIGHBORS TO ATTEND. YOUR FRIENDS?? AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN BUY HER A WEDDING CAP?" She was

truly upset, nonetheless happy but upset. Prince giggled at her boss's reaction.

"It's alright Flo; we have a real wedding ceremony in the works. Reception and all. And yes, I AM getting her a wedding cap." Doc assured her. Somewhat

appeased, Flo settled down and joined the chorus of excited congratulations. This so was not going to fly with Flo, Doc and Prince eloping and worse, Doc

NOT buying her a wedding cap?! What respective groom would not buy his bride a cap? That was unacceptable. Of course he and Prince wanted a real

wedding with all of their friends present. The whole town. It was in the works, he said. Flo was finally appeased. While basking in the limelight that brides

felt, Prince was feeling queasy. She had started feeling lousy early this morning but dismissed it as just bad fuel. She excused herself and went into the

ladie's lounge of Flo,s where she promptly threw up over an oil drain.


	33. Mommy

**Okay, the red Ferrari entering Luigi's store near the end of "Cars" I'm bringing him into the mix now. The Michael Schumacher car. He seemed to have an Italian accent even though the real one is from Germany, I believe. I'm calling him Michael.**

**The " { } " brackets indicate Michael talking in English with his sharp German (?) accent.**

She retched and vomited again over the sink. The concerned twins could hear her; they were standing just outside the door.

"Prince? Are you okay in there???" Mia called out to her. They were answered with a dull moan, followed by an: "I am now." They

waited a few seconds, pondering whether or not they should go in as they heard the latrine unit flush. A groggy Prince emerges, her

face beaten from her ordeal. "This has been going on all morning. It started this morning." She groaned. She really didn't look good.

"Maybe you should go see Doc or Michael Seriously." Tia suggested solemnly. She rushed to Prince's side to brace her when she

started to tilt like she might lose her balance. "You really don't look good you know." "I feel like I look." Prince had the day off,

she didn't have to return to work until tomorrow but she had wanted to come in and help Flo today anyway. Flo needed all the help

she could get, even though the twins were now two additional employees of Flo's. Maybe Tia was right. "We're fine here in the café;

we'll be just fine. Besides, you just got married; you should just enjoy the rest of your day as a newly wed." Mia added. They

escorted Prince back out into the sunlight. Concerned looks washed over everyone's faces. Doc was immediately at her side. "You

don't look so good. Let's get you to the office." "My love, I'm quite capable of walking." Prince smiled at him quietly, straining through

her obvious discomfort. "I just had a little tank purge. That's all."

Doc escorted Prince to the clinic he and Michael shared. Michael was inside waiting for them. Sally and Tia had also come along at

Prince's request. "{First off congratulations you two, I heard of your nuptials.}" Michael cracked his classic crooked smile that was as

natural to him as it was for Doc and Lightning McQueen. Maybe it was just something that all race cars had was a crooked smile,

one corner of their lips turned up showing half of their teeth in the corner, like they were plotting something sneaky. Michael was a

racer strictly as a hobby, he was a doctor so he never professionally raced in any circuit, but he did in his spare time. Before his arrival

to Radiator Springs he was a racing medic often recruited for many pro-level competitions across Europe. Prince had met him a few

days ago when he first arrived. And like Doc, Like Lightning, he has that dogged determination the likes of her husband and the

rookie had. That infectious grin, just like them. She concluded that it was a "race thing". But like Doc, Michael was a sweetheart.

"Thank you Michael." Prince eked out. Michael could tell by looking at her that she needed to hold still immediately. Because she

appeared to be going through the motion of throwing up again. He quickly shoved a trash can under her mouth as she started

retching. She was dry heaving but nothing was coming out. Then there was the ominous gurgle of the contents of one's tank

churning up and sure enough, her body rejected the breakfast she had this morning. Her head was spinning. Doc's worried look

didn't go unnoticed by Michael. Wife she may be but right now he didn't look capable of seeing after her. And it was standard policy;

unless they were the only ones available, doctors were strongly discouraged from aiding their own loved ones in emergency

situations and for good reason.

If the emergency was life-threatening a distressed doctor related to the victim could actually hamper the ability to care for that

patient. The only exception to this rule was if it the illness or injury was so severe that it required the assistance of everyone trained

to help. Example: there were too many grave cases for only one doctor. Emotions would have to be set aside for a physician

to do his job, even if it was someone related to him. Emotion could cost someone his or her life. Doctors were very caring individuals

indeed, but in their profession, they simply could not afford to become "emotional" when someone's life was at stake and every

minute determined life or death. Doctors had to keep their emotions in check at all times in order to help. Doc understood this as

well; if someone Michael was related to came into the office like Prince he would have insisted on taking over for Michael, and not even

allow Michael inside to see. It would only make an already upsetting situation that more upsetting to Michael . And anyway, Prince

didn't look like she was going to drop dead. Michael kind of had a suspicion of what the cause was, as did Sally and Tia. Even Doc

was starting to put the puzzle pieces together as he studied his wife long and hard.

Sally had never conceived yet, but all females knew when something was up. Tia had a few years back, but it ended in miscarriage

after a bad accident. She and DJ learned that the infant would have been a little girl and DJ was devastated. So was Tia, but they

were still very young. They could try again. But she had been in Prince's tires; the symptoms she was showing were classic. If

conception was successful the future mother would start showing signs just hours afterwards. That was often the first flag to go up,

followed by the lack of a leak cycle. As annoying as they were, not having one was another strong indication, but that usually took

one or two months of not having one to realize that it was the sure deal. The small dripping of water and processed oil was the leak cycle, or

"cycle" that took place for two to three days each month was a nuisance for any female, but it was part of being a female, so driving around

with a padded oil pan plug was something no girl looked forward to. There were all sorts of slang names for this perfectly normal

function: "Starting", "On the plug", "The leak", "Dripping." But the clue was this: if the vomiting and dizziness started immediately

around the time when a vehicle would have started her cycle then that was a surefire sign. Tia remembered her episode that she

knew she was about to drip any minute when she and DJ had just engaged then in matter of hours, she was pewking her pistons

out. Prince knew all about the things her sex went through but right now she was far too queasy to suspect anything. She leaned

heavily against thewall on her area of the mat, moaning softly. The whole room was spinning. "Are you still dizzy?" Michael asked.

Prince nodded. Doc was looking worried. Did she get sick or something down in Yuma? He was too edgy to think rationally right now.

"Prince…when was your last leak cycle?" Michael asked politely as he studied the monitor hooked to an electrode on Prince's side. She

hated these feminine hygiene questions no matter who asked them, but she knew he was only trying to help her. Still, her face

flushed from a little embarrassment. "Um, I think last month around this time." She answered sickly, then halted, as she was starting

to slowly understand what might be wrong with her. Her eyes were widening. She suddenly remembered that she was about to

"start" hers any day now and then Doc took her LAST NIGHT. She had heard, read and had been taught in school about the topic,

about what to expect. Symptoms began in a matter of HOURS. She gazed feebly up at Michael who wore a huge smile across his face.

Doc was staring at the monitor in shock. He, too, had figured it out. Michael had already concluded what was likely "wrong" with

Prince, but just to be sure he read the print out from the screen. And he, like everyone else, heard about what went on between Doc

and Prince in their garage last night; he himself heard them since he lived just down the street. This was one of the reasons why he

wore such a monstrous grin.

"{Well congratulations for the second time. You are going to be a mommy.}" he told her.

With that the Lambourghini fainted.


	34. Preparations

Prince's pregnancy stunned the entire town. Not so much that she was pregnant but the fact that all happened so quickly. She barely been here a little over two months. And not only lost her

innocence but got "knocked up" as Fillmore so cooly put it on HER first time. "You lucky bastard you!" Sarge socked Doc in the shoulder with a wheel. "Who ever thought you would have

gotten so lucky? It's very uncommon for a lady to get planted on her very first time!" Having another "dude moment", Doc mused as he watched his man buddies boast of his performance of

striking it big on the first hit. Men, they were so..blunt. "Never knew you had it in you like that, Doc. I mean, I'm just trippin on you fixin to be a daddy and all. I still haven't gotten over you

tying the knot yet." DJ's head shook. "Well, you both deserve all this happiness. You and her. Both of you have been through so much. It's almost like it was you guys's destinies to run into

each other like you did." Fillmore remarked. "Yeah. Destiny." Doc pondered that thought. "Okay, now about this wedding, the real thing. Sally and I were talking and we were thinking about

maybe changing ours to a double ceremony." Lightning decided it was the perfect timing to bring up he subject. Doc looked at him. "Look, our wedding is less than a week away, but we

can make some last minute changes. We can just include the two of you into our ceremony." No one had ever even considered that. A double ceremonial wedding of two brides and two

grooms. "Why have a plain one-couple only affair when you could have two?" he lifted his windshield ridges in anticipation of a hopeful answer. "That's not a bad idea, you know. Be kind of

nice actually." Sheriff commented. "I like the sound of that alot." Doc looked at him with a nod.

There were preparations to make. Although he was certain Prince would have no qualms with it, as his now-wife, it was only natural for him to consult with her and get her opinion of the

proposed double-marriage ceremony. As expected she was totally in favor of it. Much excitement buzzed about with the upcoming event. It was not going to be anything huge, just the

population of the whole town, and a quite a few celebrities that Lightning personally knew. Among those were some fellow racers. To think of it, yes it was going to be rather large because no

doubt the press would get wind of it. They already had. At most the turnout was expected to be about 300 guests total. The newly restored Radiator Springs Church where the ceremony was

held was a historic landmark. Called Our Lord of the Saints Church, it was originally a Catholic Church built by missionary priests who settled here in the early 1800s. The church was here

when Lizzy's husband founded the town and he incorporated it into the town. Our Lord of the Saints fell into disrepair as the town faded from the map but since it's revival, had been newly

restored back to it's former glory. It served as the holy site for all of Radiator Springs's residents. On Saturdays it doubled as a Synagogue as some of the town's inhabitants were Jewish.

Though none of the couples were Catholic, the Priest of the Saints Church agreed to do the ceremony One's faith was not an issue where matrimony went and as it was, those of all faiths

came together at the Church on Sunday anyhow. Now to include a extra couple, the wedding was a go, set for next Friday. A mid afternoon nap had Prince feeling much better. She was told

by Michael to expect the symptoms for about a good two to three weeks more before they let up. Tia and Flo told her the same as both had undergone pregnancy themselves. Flo and Ramone

had two grown daughters both living back east. But they were in the process of moving permanently here to Radiator Springs, one of which was a body artist like her father. Her daughters, Flo

said, were eager to come here to help her and Ramone out now that the town was alive again. Ramone was overwhelmed and needed an aid. His youngest daughter was just like him, perhaps

even better at the trade than he was.

Amid a congregation of all women, Flo recalled to Prince how excited she was, and nervous when she realized that motherhood was upon her. It was madness when she learned she was

expecting. "Of course, back in those days, they couldn't tell you that fast if you were pregnant or not. They didn't have all the medical technology they have now to detect a little spark plug

that soon like they can now. Back then you found out the old fashioned way, waited to see if you skipped three or four cycles in a row then went to the doctor who could tell by jabbing you

inside out if you had one in the pan." Flo told her. "Is childbirth really as painful as they say it is?" Prince asked her, not sure if she really wanted to know. "Honey, I'm not gonna lie to you. It

hurts. It hurts like all get out. But once you got that little baby in your wheels eyeballing you like that you forget all about the pain, even willing to go through it AGAIN for the man you love.

I'll put it this way, try pulling your lips over your hood." Flo told her. All of the ladies laughed and even Prince had to let a few snickers go. "You think I'm lying? Try pulling your lips over your

hood. Better yet, try peeling the opening of yo' oil pan backwards over your whole under carriage. Oh yeah, you' laughing now but Im'a say this, you won't be laughing nothing proper when

Doc and Michael have you down on that reverse lift talkin' bout "push". Having a baby hurts honey, but like I said in the end it was all worth it. Aside from Ramone my daughters being born

was the greatest event of my life. But I won't lie about it when I wanted to bash his trunk in on the delivery lift. I didn't even want him touching me when I was in labor. Huh, I didn't even

want him in the same room with me. Not that he could have been in there if he wanted to be. Back then they didn't allow fathers into the delivery room like they do now. They just didn't do

that back then. In OUR time, it was inappropriate for the daddy to be there. It was just you, the doctor and the nurses in those days. They do everything so differently nowadays. I KNOW Doc

is going to be there for you. He may be old school but I know he ain missing this." Flo went on. "No he wants to be present. We've already decided that." Prince said. "Which is how it SHOULD

be. There ain nothing wrong with the man being there for his baby's birth. And anyway, Doc ain no stranger to delivering babies. The kids you see living in this town, he's delivered at least four

of them and when he first came to this town, he delivered babies all the time along with everything else. So he knows what to expect. He just won't know how it feels." Flo jibed, forcing

Prince to grin at her. "Of course you know, this means baby shower for you." Mia began. There were shrieks of glee around a blushing Prince as she bid her girlfriends good night. She headed

home to find Doc already inside, up reading up on parenting. She nudged the canopy sides out the way and cruised in, where she immediately collapsed on the large mat.

"I got a question for you." Doc grunted from his desk near the window. "A rather personal one," he turned to look at her. She waited. "I noticed how you looked when Michael asked you

about...the-'thing'." "...Thing?" Prince asked confused. It was like Doc didn't really want to come out and openly discuss that female issue with her, even though he himself was a doctor. He

had asked hundreds of female patients that very question Michael asked her. It wasn't that he didn't want to ask, he was really toying with Prince. he was in the mood to tease her. "Yeah;

you know, the 'thing'. The monthly thing, you know." Doc egged. Immediately Prince's look changed to that of a timid youngster-and she started blushing. She looked away. "Why do you

always do that?" Doc questioned her seriously as he came up to her and entered, parking next to her. "Do what?" she asked him mock-defensively. "THAT! What you're doing right now? You

look like you want to crawl away in reverse and hide under a table. Just like you did in Michael's office when he asked you about the..."Thing"." It's a normal healthy female function, what is it

that you're so ashamed of?" Doc pressed the issue, partially sincere, partly to just heckle her. "I suppose YOU know what it's like to have one, right?" she retorted in playful sarcasm. "I don't

believe you Sir, are in any position to brief ME on what are normal female bodily issues." "Does it really bother you that much to talk about your CYCLES?" Doc was fervent in his curiosity

about her revulsion at such a topic. "No..it's just that, it has nothing to do with it being a male doctor. I don't like it when female doctors ask me about leak cycles. I just don't. I never did.

They're embarrassing to talk about to me. They just are. Always have been. They're just the one thing that make me wish I was a man for three days out of each month. They SUCK, okay?

Normal or not!" Prince shot back, earning a laugh from Doc. "Go on and make fun of me. You're not the one that has to endure all the pad changing and the cramps and all of that." "You

know you're going to have to get over that. You're gonna have Michael checking you out down there quite a bit." Doc gently bumped her. She smiled. She had to admit, Michael was every bit

as caring as Doc was and she was looking forward to him being in charge of seeing her along in her journey to motherhood. With Michael's expertise and her unborn's father also being a

doctor, she knew she was in good hands. "What do you wish for Doc? Boy or girl?" "Oh, I don't care. Girl. Boy. Makes no matter to me. If it's healthy, that's all I ask for." Doc told her. "You?"

he looked at her. "I have no preference. I only pray that it's healthy."

The day for the wedding had arrived. Prince and Sally both were dressed up by Ramone and Boost in white accents along their bodies. Both had their engagement caps on which were sized

down enough for their actual marriage bands to fit around the outside of them on their left wheels. Both wore veils on top of their roof-like heads. and a simple boquet of stargazer lilies and

white roses was attached to their front right rims. Sally spent all week practicing how to roll in on just three wheels. Either that or hop along on one front tire which would look silly. It really

wasn't that hard to to. For Prince the move was a piece of cake considering her dance acts required her to roll on two wheels. Doc and Lightning had been painted all black with white fronts. As

expected the ceremony went without a hitch, it was nothing lavish but no less beautiful. Sure enough, there were some paparazzi present. The reception was to take place at the Wheel Well

Motel. The retired Strip Weathers who had finished congratulating Lightning and Sally now turned to Doc. "That was a nice ceremony Doc. I gotta tell you, you and this Lamborghini make a

mighty gorgeous couple there. And now you are going to be a daddy." Doc was beaming as he observed his wife on the dance floor with Boost. "Thank you so much, King. I'm excited, nervous,

a little apprehensive. I wonder if she's as scared as I am of that day. The big day, that is. HER day." King decided to answer Doc's questions in the order relayed to him. "Don't be, man.

You are going to make a good father just like I know Prince will make a good mother to your child. As far as the big delivery day, well," the King glanced down for a second. "it won't be easy for

her in the labor room. It was quite harrowing to see my wife in that amount of discomfort. It was alot of work for her because it took thirty hours for the twins to be born. But I was with her

every step of the way and I can say this, there's no feeling like watching your child, something you helped create coming out of the carrige of the woman you love. It's a sight you never

forget. Beautiful at that. Come on Doc you delivered babies, you know!" "Yes, but, this time, it's MY baby. Which is why I'm so nervous about it. About Prince." "Aw, she'll be alright. She's in

good tires with you and Dr. Schumacher." King assured him.


	35. Private Dancer

Doc and The King headed outside to avoid the noise of the celebrations in the reception hall. "I don't know, King. It's strange because I'm a

doctor and I know these things. I've brought little ones into this world. It's just that my mother died giving birth to me. She didn't even live long

enough to even get a glimpse of me. My understanding is she was dead by the time I came out. I was born during the Depression and my

parents were dirt poor. My mother couldn't afford a hospital trip so I was born at home. There really were no doctors in that area where they

were to help her and she had a difficult time with me. She was nowhere near a medical facility so they couldn't help her. Things were so harsh in

that time, the Depression you know. With over half of the country unemployed even the physicians suffered back then. Lack of patients. Many of

them went out of practice. That was a hard time for everybody. Even if my mother was in a hospital she probably would not have made it. They

didn't have all the sophisticated medical know-how we have now. I don't know why I'm so worried because cars don't die from childbirth like they

used to. It's very rare now for a mother to lose her life while delivering. Almost unheard of now. I guess it's just my mother dying behind it

that's got me on edge." "Hey that's understandable. Like I said it looks pretty painful. Watching my wife go through it made me real glad that I

was born a boy. But watching her go through it also made me realize how precious life is, seeing my sons born. It really is a miracle." King told

him. "Oh it is. Little ones never cease to amaze me. I guess I'm experiencing expectant dad anxiety." Doc chuckled. "Sounds like it. I did." King

told him. They returned back inside. The reception was lively. Good music and everything. Everyone lined up for a photograph including all of the

ushers: all four Delinquents, Luigi, Ramone, Steve and Fillmore and the Best Man Sarge, and the bridesmaids: Mia and Tia, Lightning's sister Tetris

who was a Ford Focus, Sally's identical twin sister Sammy, while Flo was Maid of Honor.

The two couples didn't have far to travel to their getaways since two rooms were reserved right there at the Wheel Well. Doc and Lightning took

the biggest suites available. It was way past one in the morning when Doc and Prince finally arrived to their room. It was huge, three times the

size of their garage and Doc's medical office combined. It was the Grand Suite Doc had rented for them. He had no idea what Lightning rented but

he understood it to be similar to what Doc had reserved, and it was on the other side of the Motel. But this Grand Suite was truly grand. The

place was a penthouse, complete with a car wash-style jacuzzi. It was canopy heaven; Doc rented specifically because he knew Prince's love for

such curtains. The monstrous-sized mat smack in the middle of the room was sheathed by an enormous double-layered gold and red ceiling

canopy. The plasma tv screen was the size of one whole wall. Chandeliers hung gracefully from the ceiling. Doc headed straight for the bar to

make a drink. "Anything to drink for you, Lovely?" he asked. When he got no response he turned around. She was standing there

looking at him like she wanted to scrape his paint off. She began acting, for lack of a better word.."out there". Out of nowhere some old 1940s

style Humphrey Bogart spy music came on, courtesy of Prince's interior stereo. Doc turned to see her staring at him seductively with those purple

eyes, her body tilted to one side and swinging her veil around in a circle with one tire. She had removed it in a stripper like fashion and now was

taunting Doc with it. This was new. It started to dawn on him that she was performing a little striptease for him, so ever the gentleman, he took

a park by the liquor bar and watched. A vanilla cigar dangled casually from the corner of his teeth. Her moves were no doubt those of someone

who had practiced a good part of dancing her entire life. She moved with flawless grace, deliberately rubbing up against him here and there as if

daring him. Pregnant cars could continue to engage right into their final few weeks of gestation, however after the fifth month it was strongly

discouraged for couples to engage in any "rough roading" as obviously, a growing baby would make it difficult. Not to mention it could be

potentially harmful for the baby if it got injured somehow by a father's penetrating. What a way to come into the world. Doc could see it now, his

kid telling everyone: "I was prematurely born due to Pop pounding Mom up and Pop kept hitting the top of my head". After the fifth month the

expecting couple could engage by other means like foreplay and oral acts, right up until the little one arrived, if they chose to do anything

at all. The reality was most couples were clearly put off by the idea of dinging an expectant mother, so they simply held off until after the baby's

arrival. But some had their fetishes. While Doc was one of those ones generally repulsed at the idea of engaging while Prince carried life, her

escapade was really turning him on right now.

At two months she wasn't even buldging yet, hardly far enough along to harm her or their child. Right now he was thinking hot things. If she was

daring him to play along it was working but she had better watch it; she might get more than she dared for. After two months she had grown

accustomed to his "bestowment" but he had yet to take it to her as hard as he wanted. If she wanted to drive out of here of her own accord

then she had better quit dancing so seductively in front of him. He sucked temptingly on his vintage canister in front of him. He liked what he was

seeing so far. She leapt up onto the bar table in one prance-like leap and called herself trying to do a headstand on her front wheels. She had a

lot of flexibility and grace, but she misjudged the distance from the edge of the table, thus when she jumped onto it in a head stand, one of her

front tires slipped off the edge. Before she or Doc could react she went sliding most ungracefully behind the counter taking glasses and bottles

with her. She squealed in brief fright and panic as she landed on her head behind the counter. It happened too fast for Doc to even react. Before

he knew it his wife was standing upside down behind the liquor bar unit, on her grill, undercarrige facing him with her back tires waving helplessly

in the air. Normally she would have been able to right herself out of this predicament like any car, but she was wedged good between the table

and the counter. Well, this was unexpected. "PRINCE!!" Doc was at her side in an instant, panicking over the baby. And her. She didn't appear to

be in distress or pain. At two months the fetus wasn't developed enough to sustain any serious effects. Noticing how absurd his lover

looked, he burst into a fit of laughter as he rose up on his front wheels. and used one of his tires to dislodge her sideways until she came

bouncing down. It really was hilarious. "Are you okay?" he questioned, expecting her to be overcome with tears and the like. If she was

embarrassed it didn't show. As soon as he helped her up she immediately went back to her little dance act as if nothing happened. This time she

hopped in front of him, taking his custom made drink and laving the rim of it seductively. The straw-like tube on the canister she began sucking on

it in a manner that clearly looked like what she would imitate on a certain part of him. He watched the graphic scenery unfold with throbbing

rising in his under carriage. Moving behind him she poured the alcoholic beverage all over his tail pipe and other areas and had at it. It was

nothing like the last time; this time she did her homework. She got some tips from her girlfriends. She let out an Ertha Kitt-like

feline growl as she saw him licking his lips in clear anticipation in the large mirror before them. She swirled her tongue around the inside of his tail

pipe and caught his emerging jack. She took it, bit it--gently this time around--but increased the bite pressure just enough to send him mad. His

entire frame arched off of the floor with a strained hiss. He wasn't the noise-making type when he was aroused but he would breathe heavily,

pant here and there, and muttered a few choice obscene words in the process. She knew by now that this was how he reacted to any form

stimulation when he was seriously getting worked up. His entire body shuddered when she got creative with a bowl of ice. She would put a piece

of ice on the tip of her tongue and dig it, cube in all into his shaft. It was a strange feat Doc had never had done to him before during a pipe job

and it was something she totally came up with on her own. The cold ice cube coming in contact with the inside of his jack or pipe melted quick but

sent a sudden shock of pleasure Doc couldn't quite explain. It was powerful enough to illicit at least one sudden moan from the old man. Prince

worked him like a professional, a far cry from her pathetic first time several mornings back. This time she had it all planned out, even

practicing in secrecy with an empty lube cylinder leading up to the wedding. She perfected her technique by taking as much of the cylinder she

could take into her mouth, gagging at first. But she kept at it and now she put it to use on her husband. Each time she slid her face back under

him she took more and more of him into her throat, increasing each time until she succeeded in capturing his entire length in without choking.

Chrysler the taste of him was absolutely sinful.

Maddened with desire she began to speed up the suctioning with force, hungrily licking everything around his pipe entry. Doc was driven to the

point of no return; the front part of his body collapsed on the floor, his teeth gritted into a wild snarl, eyes squinted and watering.

"SSSSSssssssss, damn, damn, damn..." he cursed the air knowing he was closing in on his release and wanting to pull away. He didn't want to

eject with her lips still glued to him but apparently she sensed what he was trying to do and responded accordingly. She gripped his back tires

with hers to hold him in place, clamped her mouth around his "boy toy" with it as deep as she could get it until her lips touched the base of his

muffler. Slowly and cruelly, she began to draw her mouth back up. Concealed inside it her hardened tongue curled up at the tip, raking a hard

path along the underside of his pipe, hitting every Hail Mary sensitive spot on the way up. Doc could take no more and he exploded his

exhaust into her throat. Totally unprepared to be grabbed like this and forcibly held, he was fearful of releasing in her mouth like such; while most

females did not object to giving a "job" very few were willing to swallow. For most of them it was simply too unsavory. Obviously this one was an

exception to that rule because Prince made no attempt to let go of him as he peaked. She took all of him in as if she was sucking on a quart of oil

at Flo's, no disgust, no choking whatsoever. To say the least Doc was both shocked-and relieved-that she had no issue with an "all-out job". His

body shook uncontrollably and she encouraged it by stroking his back bumper. He had to admit it, for one who had never done it before, she

gave him the best suction of his life. He had had it done hundreds of times, but not like this. After she gave him a good "mouth exercise", Doc

took her to bat with an exercise of his own. What a good night this was indeed.

**Five months later and counting.**

"Have you decided on a name yet?" Prince asked. She wanted Doc to name the baby. "Yeah. I was thinking about, Monarch." "Monarch" Prince

repeated with enchantment in her tone. It was unique like hers, different. "That name reminds me of a little girl I met once." Doc told her. "And

what if its' not a girl?" "Still Monarch. I think it fits a boy or a girl, don't you think?" Doc said to her. Prince sighed heavily on her wheels. Both of

her sides has swelled with life and her underside was only inches above the ground. She resorted to short naps during the day to ease the

pressure of the growing infant inside of her under carriage. She smiled warmly. "I like that name." she told him. "Well, I figured you would."

***Next, the big day.


	36. Birth

Prince was relaxing at Flo's cafe. She had been put on maternity leave a month ago but it was driving her crazy to just hang around the

garage. She loved working at Flo's. Flo totally objected to her "working" but she was okay with Prince hanging around, as long as she

didn't try to do anything heavy. She had enough weight to haul around as it was. Both sides of her were bulging outwards, giving her a

weird appearance from the front, and her under belly was practically scraping the ground when she moved. Her back ached frequently

because of it and according to what she heard, this was normal. She enjoyed being pregnant, feeling the baby move about and all of

that, but at the same time she couldn't wait for it to be over. He--or she--was a lot of added weight on Prince and sometimes kicked one

of it's rims the wrong way, painfully jabbing Prince into certain areas. All four of her axles, even her oil pan cramped constantly from the

added pressure, her tires sank under it but she managed. As long as she periodically stopped to rest she was fine. She found herself

going to the ladies' lounge more than she liked to relieve herself of excess water coolant from her exhaust pipe, among other things. The

one real thing she did like about expecting was that she didn't have to worry about leak cycles. They ceased for the full nine months of

carrying, a welcome break for her. She certainly didn't miss _those_.

She fixed up the baby area of the garage by the final few weeks of her gestation. Doc had to hand it to her, she had an exquisite style to her. He

was right, she was alot like a "Madonna" or even "Prince" type. Vogue like them. Very expensive jester dolls and French clowns with the black-

teared eyes adorned a corner of the garage in a pile along with the statue of an elf. Doc was fine with the jesters and clowns but he wasn't

crazy about all of the other "girlie" dolls like the Victorian ones because he argued, what if the baby turned out to be a boy. He didn't want his

son, if it was one to be "girlified". But Prince assured him if it indeed was a boy then she would put away the female looking ones and get more

"boy" things. She didn't want a "girlized" son either. She said she just put the Victorian era out to make the area look nice. A tiny crib was

custom-made at her request, one of an exquisite design. The railings were intricately carved and were a combination of various ancient Celtic

symbols and American Native symbols. Little carvings of hoop dancers, totem poles and Irish shamrocks and Celtic Crosses adorned the wooden

fixtures. The same symbols were engraved into the metal parts of the crib. Prince chose the symbols in honor of her husband, the half-Irish/half-Comanche

Hudson Hornet. He was flattered by it. And it was no surprise that yes, she added a canopy cover over the little crib. A miniature gray one

made of taffeta, silk and rayon, triple-layered and thick. The sheer taffeta was closest to the inside of the crib. The bedding was satin

and silk. Normally she would have chosen cotton and would most likely change to it later but for now being as excited as she was about

motherhood, she opted for all-out luxury for her pending new arrival. Why settle for plain cotton when she could have more expensive

fabrics thanks to her husband? He didn't just have the cash for it; it was _his_ idea in fact to have such an expensive crib. _He_ insisted on

the finest and most expensive crib for _his_ baby. Prince told him that expensive didn't exactly mean that it was better. She originally

wanted a standard crib from a store but Doc wasn't having it. No and, ifs or buts about it. She gave in and went along with it, after all, he

was paying for it. If he could afford it, why not? This one was very sturdy indeed,, and solid like a well made regular crib, just very fancy.

She chose a pastel gray theme as she didn't know yet what the baby's gender was. A soft gray was unisex enough, it would be

appropriate for either sex. And she had decided that she didn't want to know what she was having. She wanted to be surprised in the

labor room. Both Doc and Dr. Schumacher knew what it was; it was a boy. As advanced as medicine was now, the baby's sex could be

detected when the mother was six or seven months along. Most couples were anxious to know in advance what their unborn child would

be so that they could prep for the baby's arrival accordingly. Even old-school Doc was eager to find out but Prince was a different breed.

She requested that she not be told so she could find out the "traditonal way" what it was. It would add to the experience of giving

birth, she said. Both doctors respected her wishes. Only they and a few others in town knew what Prince was carrying and they all kept

silent about it. Prince did spend time wondering what kind of frame her child would have. Would he or she have a sleek one like her,

hinting at a sports car model—like her? Or would it be more along Doc's kind? Old models like his could very easily be custom made. There

was no shortage of cars who often chose an older look for a child who looked like their shape leaned in such a way. There were many

vehicles far younger than Prince who were quite satisfied with the antique or "period piece" looks their parents selected as their first

fitting. And of course, when they reached adulthood, vehicles could remodify themselves as they saw fit, pick another design. If they did

that often involved a surgical like procedure to have certain sections of their natural frames altered to accommodate their new styles. This

in turn usually meant a long and painful recovery; to most cars it simply wasn't worth it. Again, most vehicles tended to stick with

whatever frames they came into this world with, were content with it when their parents took them to the body shop for their first shells.

In fact, it really wasn't the parents' call; it was the doctors' and those in Ramone's profession so-to-speak who determined what the little

tyke would turn into. They had the trained eyes to do so. They could just look at an infant, see how they were shaping out and

determine what type of automobile. So, parents usually just accepted what the doctors or body artists told them. Maybe her child would be

a mix of both her and Doc. It DID happen; some vehicles looked like both parents. They had such a unique design that they really couldn't

wear any of the known hundreds of versions of year/make/models already out there. In these instances they _had_ to have custom body

shells made specifically for them and no two were alike. There were cars driving around with looks no other vehicle had, or ever would

have. Prince recalled one case in Las Vegas of seeing one who appeared to be a cross between a truck and a compact car. His front was

elongated and truck-like, his midsection was that of a car followed by a rather short flatbed. He may have indeed looked strange, his

shape but he certainly wasn't unattractive. He was a "strange attractive." He certainly turned heads everywhere he went, had many

friends, and had no problem attracting the attention of the ladies. It turned out that his father was a truck while his mother was a car.

And he just happened to be born somewhat like both. He was known as a "hybrid". Any vehicle that was born naturally with the

resemblance of the shapes of both parents, assuming both parents were different were known as such. Prince began to envision a hybrid

of her and Doc. Maybe the baby would morphe to be low to the ground like her sleek build but like Doc in the front, with his grill and

everything. It certainly didn't look ugly just…different. There were no ugly cars in this world.

More than likely it probably wouldn't look like either. Maybe have Doc's eyes but it would become a truck. Jeep maybe? Or an SUV. Even

an ambulance or something—a van. Mini cooper? She grinned at the idea of a "dwarf" or micro-car, she an Doc producing a dwarf car like a mini

cooper or a chevy beat. A Toyota Yaris! Couples produced micro-cars all the time. Whatever it turned out to be, it would have the full love

and support of both parents. Whether he or she became a chevy beat or a bus, it was her _baby._ She was brought out of musing by a dull pain.

Not overly painful, but more like a mild cramp in her side. She wasn't sure what to make of it because she had already gone to the hospital twice,

each time it turned out to be a false alarm. And that was after she had to sit there for hours to make sure it was indeed fake. She knew Doc and

Michael meant no harm in it and held nothing against them for it. And Flo told her false alarms were to be expected. Most moms-to-be had them.

But Prince was in no mood to lie around for several more hours before being told: "You can go home. It's a false reading." But she was overdue

now, by four days to be exact.

In fact, Michael had ordered her that if she didn't begin labor naturally by Sunday she would have to come in and be induced into it with a

shot up her crank shaft. And according to Flo that really was no fun because she had it done to deliver her second daughter. Doc knew;

he was the one that administered it and delivered Flo's youngest. Inducing labor was done with a drug that merely started the real thing,

that's all. It just encouraged nature to take over. It was _getting_ the shot done that was harrowing. According to Flo, it was almost

as painful as the actual birthing itself. This particular "cramp" however felt very different, even from the "false cramps" of the past. She felt

another and it wasn't even as strong as the first. She decided to head to the girls' room to check herself in the mirror but as she pulled out of the

corner there was very strange noise. It was an intense "**_Whooooosh_**" akin to someone suddenly dumping a large bucket of water or other type

of fluid. Something she likened to a gush comming out---of HER. She glanced at the floor under her tires, dismayed to find she was standing in

what looked like water with some tinges of oil here and there. The entire cafe was full of patrons and many of them noticed it, too. She didn't

even realize others were looking at her as she examined the floor beneath her. She knew all this came out of an intimate area of her body and

that's when the horror hit her. It was like she had peed all over herself--in full view of a crowded diner! Terror and shame etched itself

across her features, too afraid to move. Did she just uncontrollably _piss on herself_? And not even in privacy at that! She had never been

pregnant; she didn't know. Flo on the other hand knew exactly what was up, as did several other women who happened to be mothers.

They and a few fellows raced to Prince, who was still standing there, shaking on her tires. They suddenly felt weak, her tires. Especially

her back ones. Was this what they meant by "water breaking"? She wasn't sure if that was it or if it was the other thing. It had been

explained to her that she might break first. Some mothers did, others didn't "break the bag" until the actual pushing stage. "Your water

just broke; you gotta get to the hospital--NOW." Flo was at her side at an instant. Prince was gaping at her, somewhat assured in the

knowledge that at least she didn't wee on herself in public but it was still an embarassing predicament to have her sac rupture in front of

onlookers. She started to remark about the mess she made of the floor but Flo stopped her. "Forget this flo'; hospital--NOW." Flo urged

as she and several onlookers escorted her out. Prince cruised slowly, amazingly she was quite calm. Her insides fluttered as she felt the

baby move and she could feel pressure in the lower region of her under carrige. It was very prominent by the beginning entrance of the

oil pan, an indication that the head was pushing against it. Any one who had ever undergone delivery knew what was going on;

"breaking water" was a sure fire sign that the baby was on its way. This time there was nothing false about it. Doc was out with Sherriff

when he received the call. He was on his way.

Prince was calm but both excited and scared. She didn't know what to expect. She had undergone several breathing exercises with Doc

and Michael, but now that all went out the door. She had forgotten it all. Still she kept her serenity as she parked on the double hydraullic

lift, the same one she was on almost a year ago when Doc decided to acquaint his tongue with her sacred areas on their first date. This

same lift was not only for female exams; it was also the standard obstetrical table. Doc came striding in, showing no fear or nervousness

whatsover. The truth was, he was a little on edge because it was his child about to be born, but he intended to be strong for Prince. If he

started flipping out it would just make her freak out even more when her real work began. He immediately went to her side, grinning. "So

this is it. We're about to be parents." he winked. Prince could hardly contain her excitement. "Yes, it is." she etched the largest smile Doc

had ever seen, appearing on the verge of tears. She felt euphoric, like her body was preparing itself for something major. Michael flipped the

switch to lift the table up just a few feet so that he could have a good inspection of Prince from below. "{Well, yes, you are ready my lady.

If all goes well, which I'm sure it will, we will have some little rims here shortly.}" he said to her. Prince heard of how long a delivery could

take, especially for the first time. So she instinctively knew she could very well be here for the rest of the day, well into the next day. For

the next several hours nothing extraordinary occurred. Periodically Prince drove around the inside of the medical office as well as outside

in brief breaks to relieve the increasing pressure in her interior with Doc readily at her side. Then she would periodically get back on the

lift to be lifted up so that Michael could see how far along her pan opening expanded. He found that each time she had expanded several

inches more. Females were amazing pieces of work Michael concluded, how they could be made of metal like males, yet certain parts of

them were able to bend, flex --if not stretch--like rubber. These intimate areas could never be "made" in a body shop or duplicated. Either

cars had them at birth or didn't and obviously, if they had them, it meant they were girls. There were reasons why they were born

with frames that had such expandible metal pieces, something no guy car could ever have. If girls were to bear the next generation, they

had to be born like this. Throughout the day visitors came and went to keep Prince and Doc company. At their request, Tia and DJ decided

to view the birth because Tia was now five months along herself. After such a tragic end to her last pregnancy she was estatic to learn

she was with child again. So Doc and Prince thought it would be fitting for the young couple to remain behind and see firsthand what to

expect when Tia's time came.

**11:23 P.M.**

Prince's contractions had increased tenfold. She was now in full-blown labor, beginning the second stage of pushing down.

She had been given a sedative that only dulled the pain minutely. She couldn't be given large amounts because that would have a

negative impact on the unborn baby. To completely alleviate her discomfort meant risking her baby being born heavily sedated, or even

fatally drugged. She had sank completely against the lift, panting hard. Tia, at Michael's command had placed a wet towel across Princes

roof. The cool water helped as did Tia rubbing her side. Michael was under the lift, watching and counting. "{Breathe in, now...push. Push-

push-push..}" he coaxed as Prince did so and strained with all of her might. Her insides felt like they were about to crack open. She

gritted her teeth in agony before letting out a loud gasp. Then she was suddenly hit with a major contraction. Chysler this was painful.

Her whole body was wracked in agony, trembling against Doc and Tia. DJ was below where Michael was, silently awestruck by what he

was seeing. He hadn't said one word since Prince began stage 2. He didn't need to. His face gave way to what he was feeling. He was

not repulsed at all by what he was witnessing. Now that she was crowning, this was the time to flip Prince over. Cars began the initial

second stages of labor upright, allowing gravity to help push the baby down. But one the infant was emerging near the mother's pan

opening, she was moved into a position of partially leaning/almost lying on her back. It was more work for her to keep pushing but this

was necessary to help the doctor help guide the newborn out. No car had axles long enough to allow him to reach up and grasp the baby as it

emerged from it's mother on a hydraulic lift; it simply wasn't feasible. Having her lie in an almost prone positon made it much easier for the

doctor to grasp the newborn, help pull it out if necessary. As a last resort, if emergency extraction was needed to get it out, the mother was

already in position for it. The lift was rotated backwards until Prince was nearly lying on her back in immense pain. Tia took to caressing her

head area while DJ and Doc took position near the end, each one of them gingerly holding one of her back tires. Both stroked and rubbed her

rear axles which was said to help relax the mother and it did. Prince drifted into a realm of brief solace because DJ and Doc massaging her

lower half was soothing. As was Tia's head rub. The red Ferrarri had situated himself between Doc and DJ at the end, ready to help deliver. His

front tires were covered up with latex. Prince's brief hiatus was rudely interrupted by a particularly harsh contraction, one so strong

that it sent her entire body jolting in pain. She wailed. "{Push Prince.} Michael instructed. She was trying. She was weak. She had been in

labor all day, the last two hours of it in this pushing stage. She was exhausted and hurting. "Don't give up Prince; I see it. It's almost here."

DJ encouraged her and patted her tire he held. He proceeded to gently rub her outstretched axle more. They all were urging her on with Tia

unknowingly even groaning along with Prince. "Don't give up on us now." Tia whispered in Prince's side view as the Lambourghini

collapsed flat on her back.

She was sobbing now, her frame trembling from the agony. "Prince. Listen to me. There is a little baby in there that wants to see its mommy. It

wants to see how beautiful it's mother really is. And the only way it will know is if she helps to push him out. You can do it my love. He wants to

see you. Or she wants to see you." Doc told her intimately. "I'm so tired. I'm scared. I'm so tired, it hurts too much. I can't do it. I CAN'T."

Prince wept against him "Yes you can. Little Prince or Little Hudson wants to meet us. " Doc said. She nodded, her under side heaving up and

down with each breath she took. She began moaning again as she felt another contraction coming. "Come on...Puuuuush." Doc cooed

symphathetically with her. Michael was smiling. Prince's groan turned into a near-scream. It hurt so much but her body was focused solely on

the intricate set of pieces in her under carrige designed to push her child into the world. She let out a series of strangled gasps and heaving

breaths before bearing down with all her might. Her body curled upward as if attempting to roll herself into a ball. She felt like she was going

to rip. Her whole pan which felt like the size of the table she was lying on was constricting of its own accord and she could feel the buldge

moving near the top. "Oh, I see it!!" DJ became excited. Doc's eyes slightly widened fixated on what he was seeing. "{Here he comes..!}

Michael's oil covered wheels pulled out what was remaining of the indescernable mass of metal and naked rims. It was the size of two

standard tires, the normal size of a newborn. Its metal still soft. It was curled into a little ball of dripping wetness, and

heaved a few choking coughs. Doc's mouth moved in a silent "Oh my." Prince rested in Tia's wheels, completely spent and weeping as

she heard her baby for the first time. HER baby. Awakened from his warm slumber in such a rude fashion to be met with the hostile air

and strange noises, the new born started messing up his face in an instant. His unfocused eyes were glazed over, not yet familiar with the

shock of being out of their watery environment. Michael immediately placed the slithering little life on Prince's under carrige where he immediately

started groping blindly for nourishment with his tiny front rims. He let out a strangled cry until Doc guided his mouth to a nodule protruding from

the top area of where Prince's right front wheel was. The new born instantly latched on; Prince could feel suctioning from her as the infant

hungrily fed from the self-sustaning reservoir of fluids that had been building up in her system for the past several months. The only food her

infant would need for the next year of his life, her body had spent months preparing. "It's over my love. It's over. You have a boy. We have a

son." Doc whispered to her. She was so overcome all she could do was weep. She didn't need to see him just yet; she knew her son was

beautiful. First and foremost he entered this world starving. Feeding him overrode everything else. Doc kissed her side view, and then planted a

kiss on the head of his son, completely disregarding that he had yet to be cleaned off. He came out of Prince, his wife, and every part of her was

sacred to him. What made up her also made up his son.

"Thank you, Prince, for giving me my son." he repeated softly to her.

**_NOTE: There is one more chapter after this to be posed Monday, then I'm calling this complete. I do have several other stories in the_****_ works, expect one about Monarch soon, and some shorter ones in between. _**

**_Please note it may take a few weeks before my next story comes up. _**


	37. End

**This is the final chapter for this. Thanks to all who read it.**

**A month later.**

Doc and Michael were standing in the doorway of their medical practice/hospital observing the interesting scenario before them. In the drive

way of their building Steve was dealing with a very belligerent car he pulled over. The mustang cruiser had pulled him over for speeding and

the car went medieval on him, cursing and yelling until Steve promptly warned him to can it unless he wanted to have all four of his tires

booted on the spot. The police were fast; they could do it. No one knew quite how, but it was part of their police academy training no doubt.

The car, a 1991 New Yorker did just that, once he realized Steve was serious, quick to follow up with a string of apologies. He then told the cop

that he was just having a "really bad day." Apparently. Still it was no excuse for him to haul off on a tangent as he did, but Steve took it in

stride. If he wanted he could have gotten tougher but he was not Griff, Four Wheel, Duncan or the Sheriff. Any of the four would have gone

ahead and booted the car and possibly hauled him off to jail simply for his outburst. But Steve decided to let it slide for the moment. Bad days

happened to folks, and liked it or not, Steve found himself on the receiving end of the car's wrath for whatever wrongs had been done to him. It

was no excuse, but the cruiser did understand. Police work included dealing with jerks sometimes. The car was now calm as Steve drove a

short distance away to radio for backup. It was not typical procedure. Although the New Yorker didn't appear intoxicated or drugged, after such an

outburst Steve wasn't taking any chances. He also began writing his ticket. He extracted a pen that came out of the rim of his front tire in a

holder and revealed his clipboard from a compartment on his side. The two doctors watched him focused on the task at hand.

Only a few seconds passed when the New Yorker went berserk again. All-of-a-sudden he yelled a flurry of profanities that made no sense

whatsoever, jumping about in one spot and stomping the ground hard with his wheels. His behavior was similar to a spoiled child throwing a

temper tantrum. He hit the ground so hard at one point that his back bumper fell off. He then spun around. Using his front wheels like hands,

he picked up his own chrome bumper—a very expensive accessory that was a piece of him—and flung it about fifteen feet out into the street in

front of him. Clanging noisily in the street, a big rig promptly ran over it, flattening one end of it. Doc and Michael were struggling not to laugh aloud. This

guy really was having a bad day. "{I think that guy needs anger management.}" Michael told his partner. "Yeah no kiddin." Doc had to agree. It was a riot to

watch though. Steve frowned as he glanced up from what he was doing and headed over to the irate car, temporarily placing his pad and pen back underneath him.

"_**What the hell is your problem**_???" he asked annoyed by the car's outburst again. As soon as the New Yorker saw Steve heading back to him he tried to act stable

again. "Nothing sir. " "If you don't cool it I'm gonna haul you off to the impound, you got that??? This is the second time you've pulled this crap;

I don't care what kind of day you're having. This is your second warning; you won't get a third!" "Yes sir. Sorry sir. I'm very sorry." "Your 'bad

day' is gonna get a lot worse if you don't control yourself! I mean it. Pick your bumper up before I summon you for littering. NOW. And don't roll

your eyes at me. " Steve's patience was wearing thin now, the doctors could see it. "Yes sir…of course sir." The car could tell the cop was not

playing with him as he dragged his now damaged bumper back near him and remained docile for the duration of the pull-over. Steve went back

to writing the ticket as his back up, Duncan arrived. Nothing else happened; the car was given his ticket and sent on his way with his bumper

in his trunk. Doc watched Prince pull up with the baby strapped to her side like a little piece of luggage by her door. He had been waiting for

her. Now the two drove off, to the very cliff where they first met exactly one year ago from today. Prince stared in silent wonder as she saw for

the first time just how beautiful the Cliff valley truly was. She had her son Monarch nestled under her front wheel where he was nursing from

her. It was still too early to tell what he would become exactly but he did have a frame that went down the middle of his eyes, strongly hinting

that he would end up with double windshields like Doc. His eyes were yellow. Prince notice that the suctioning stopped and out of instict

checked on him. She wasn't concerned at all. Monarch had fallen asleep with her nodule line feed in his mouth. He always did that. She gently

dislodged herself from him and he puckered up his wire-like lips, sucking noisily despite having nothing to suck on. It finally ceased as he was

sound asleep. Monarch wasn't the best-looking thing, really Newborns weren't exactly cute. They were rather ugly. They were nothing more

than a ball-like mass of frames with big white eyes and tireless legs and arms. But it was a very cute ugly. Monarch wouldn't start to fill out and

really look cute until he was about six months. Prince pushed a button on her side. A small robotic like arm that quickly lifted the baby out of

her grasp set him back into his little compartment on her side before retracting itself back in. As Doc pulled up beside her she began to speak.

"Exactly one year ago I came here to this very spot to put an end to myself. And then I met you. I want to thank you, "Doc Hudson", for saving

my life. I don't mean just stopping me from killing myself. You saved me in so many ways. I am so happy we encountered each other here on

this cliff." She looked at him. Doc understood completely. Because of him, Prince had become somebody's girlfriend, wife, and mother all within a

year. Less than a year. Something she never thought possible. "Thank you Hudson for coming into my life. You don't know how everyday I

thank the Car upstairs for sending you to me." Doc put on that infamously crooked grin of his as his eyes narrowed. "Fate can be strange

sometimes. I know. And your welcome." He nodded to her and they watched as the sun set.

**The car roared around the Piston Cup racetrack. He was one of a kind. A hybrid who looked like an odd cross between a Hornet and some **

**sort ****of luxury like a lotus or a Lambourghini. Handsome he was but incredibly down to earth. He was so low to the ground that**

**unlike his ****father's his back tires were completely hidden. His false "headlights" were very high set right in front of his eyes to make him **

**appear like he _really_ wore "glasses". He had a unibody style like Doc but was more sports like. His front was higher **

**than his back. A ****single frame split between those yellow eyes. His once all white body color was toy blue with Dinoco emblazoned on **

**both sides and near ****the ****corner of his eyes. The entire stadium was going crazy as he neared the end of his journey for the Cup, despite **

**his personal losses. His sister ****had just passed away hours earlier in a hospital, his wife and daughter were killed in a plane crash last year enroute to**

**his Piston Cup race last year-enroute to the race and he overheard his crew chief get the news while on the track. Year before that, a close friend**

**of his died hours before he was to race, and that friend wanted him to race....He floundered twice. This was his third Piston Cup race, third tragedy **

**in a row. **

**But his pal, wife and sis made him ****promise to race this race. Did they think he was a robot? Capable of racing under such pressure? He was **

**only a car. But it was a promise he ****intended to keep. He knew his parents were cheering him on from the hospital waiting room where **

**their daughter died, despite their terrible ****pain. They had to be there for their son. They had to be.**

_Commentator 1: "Monarch Hudson it going to finally win his Piston Cup after so much tragedy and loss! We just received word hours before_

_this race that his sister did indeed die after a long battle with her illness; she made him promise her he would race today. Can you imagine the_

_load this young racer has on him? Losing his wife AND daughter just last YEAR. " And all of it showed as he faltered race after race…"_

**_(Stadium chanting "MONARCH! MONARCH!")_**

_Commentator 2: "Folks, this is HISTORY. NEVER in history have two cars from one family won the Piston Cup. Monarch Hudson, son of The_

_Fabulous Hudson Hornet who lost his daughter just hours ago, now his SON is about to take the title. Listen to this crowd…."_

_****THIS IS A FUTURE STORY ABOUT THE HUDSON HORNET'S SON.**_


End file.
